The Solider Who Carried On
by LaciePanda
Summary: It's been a month after Sherlock jumped and John is getting on with life the best he can. But when a killer comes to town demanding Sherlock to come after him, John and Lestrade must hire an actor to play the part of Sherlock. But when Sebastian Moran crosses paths with their criminal, Sherlock and John just might cross paths as well. (Guest appearances from the Homeless network!)
1. The White Flame

For the first time in a almost a month, Dr. John Watson was having a nice, clam, peaceful moment. He wasn't sitting around being depressed, he was talking (More like listening) to someone on the phone telling him how sorry they were, or worrying about anything at mattered in this or his world.

What he was doing was sitting in his chair, sipping a nice cup of hot tea, simply enjoying the moment, however long it would last.

It had been nearly a month since Sherlock's suicide- sorry, no murder. After Sherlock jumped they found his phone and Moriarty's body on the rooftop of St. Bart's. That was all the proof John needed to be sure that Sherlock didn't commit suicide. For the first week John was depressed, he didn't talk to anyone, he did eat, but only small portions. While he did have a few nightmares, they went away after they found the Moriarty's body, which to John was motivation and hope that maybe Sherlock, somehow, had a plan.

He only started talking to people once again at Sherlock's funeral. There wasn't a large amount of people there, but more came than he had originally expected. Apparently, some of the officers down at The Scotland Yard still respected Sherlock for the many lives he saved.

During the second week things got a little better. John was still very down, but he wasn't as depressed. He started working at the clinic again, but only for a few hours. Mrs. Hudson would help clean the house once a week, (usually it was when John was at work) and every so often she would invite John over for dinner. Although he didn't really want to be around people, he knew it would be good for him so he tried to make the best of all their little meals together. Lestrade had started going to a pub with John on the weekends. They would talk about anything and everything. Although Lestrade normally tried to avoid talking about Sherlock, he did get John to open up a bit about him (after his 5th beer).

Molly would sometimes pop by a give a quick 'Hello!' and a 'How are things going?' John would give a sigh, of course Molly knew how things were going, but somehow John felt that somehow that her popping by was more of a comfort her.

Anderson and Donavon hadn't spoken a word to John since Sherlock 'suicide'. Well, that's not entirely true, they did speak, ONCE.

Lestrade and John were sitting in a cab on their way to their normal pub when Lestrade got call. John told him it was fine and they could stop by the crime scene, Lestrade could take a quick look about, then they would go to the pub. John stood off to the side, as Lestrade was looking over the body John noticed something the others missed. When he pointed it out Anderson said something, John couldn't even remember what, but Anderson said something completely out of line about Sherlock. And if it hadn't been for Lestrade stepping in Anderson wold have gone home with a broken nose. That was the day when Donavon learned how loyal John really was, and made sure never to say anything negative about Sherlock, in or out of John's presence. (There was always the chance he might find out and get her back later).

On the third week, John was starting to move on. He started working more hours at the clinic, only visited Sherlock's once that week, and that was when he went with Mrs. Hudson because she was doing some shopping and she saw a bunch of dark blue flowers that reminder her of Sherlock and wanted to put some on his grave. He began to get more sleep and ate more, he also noticed he wasn't having nightmares as much.

It was finally the fourth week, and almost an exact month since Sherlock jumped.

* * *

As John was just about finished with his tea his cell phone began to ring. As he pulled it out he looked at the caller ID, it was Greg Lestrade.

"Hello,"

"Hey John...ummm...How ya' doin'?"

John sat confused, normally Lestrade would get right to the point, the fact that he was stalling meant something was wrong.

"I'm doing good, fine. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, not exactly, do you think you could come down to the Yard. I think you should know about this."

"Alright, be there in 10 minutes or less." And with that john hung up, well there went his small moment of peace. He got up, put his mug in the sink, found his shoes and coat and left to call a cab.

During the cab ride so many different things went through his head. _What was Lestrade on about? Was he on a case and hit a dead end and was desperate for help? Maybe it had to do with Harry? _(Let's get say Harry has been in trouble with the police about her drinking habits a bit more than a few times). O_r what if...what if it had to do with Sherlock? No John, don't get your hopes up, if it did have anything to do with Sherlock it would be they finally found some evidence that cleared his name._

John shook his head as the cab pulled up to the Yard. He paid the driver and went off in a hurry to find Lestrade.

* * *

Inside the Yard, John knew his way around almost as good as he knew his way around 221B. He tried not to make eye contact with anyone, but it was hard when he knew almost everyone was starting at him. When the door to Lestrade's office finally came into view, John speed up a little now speed walking.

*Bump*

Looking up he saw he had ran into Anderson _Great!_

"Watch where you're going will ya!" Anderson said as he pushed John off of him. John rolled his eyes and was about to make a snotty remark when he heard Donavon call him.

"Dr. Watson, Lestrade is waiting for you."

John shook his jacket and turned back to going to Lestrade's office. 'Is everything alright?" John asked Sally as he past her in the doorway.

Although John and Sally weren't exactly on good terms, they at least could speak to each other with getting into a fight. (Unlike Anderson who felt had to make a remark about anything that had to do with either John or Sherlock).

"Is something wrong Inspector?" John said entering Lestrade's office. "Oh boy is it, before I begin you might want to have a seat." Lestrade gestured with his hand to a empty seat in front of his desk. John sat down obeying Lestrade and sat in the slanted chair.

"Look, I didn't want to get you involved, but it has to do with Sherlock, so I felt you had a right to know."

John wanted to widen his eyes and drop his jaw and go completely crazy. But he had to remain calm and cool, it _involved_ Sherlock, he never said it was Sherlock exactly.

Lestrade pointed to a what looked like an ordinary Tv screen with a remote and a video started to play.

The video had a picture of a flame with the letter **'F' **on it the whole time. A voice began to speak, but it was high pitched and sounded much like a chipmunk so no one knew exactly who it was.

"Hello," said the voice kind enough.

"Many of you down at Scotland Yard know me as '_The White Flame_'. It has been quite awhile since my last call on the Yard, so I'd thought I'd pop by and say hi. I especially wanted to come 'round when I heard about that nasty business with Mr. Sherlock Holmes 'Fake suicide'. The voice chuckled, and not one that sounded very friendly. "Did you seriously think you could fool me! Sherlock Holmes! The World's only Consulting Detective! Committing suicide! That would make for a pretty title in the newspapers, but you can't fool me that easily!"

John's face darken, how dare he talk about Sherlock that way! John would like to throw his fist at this 'White Flame' for even thinking that he was some genius. It was obvious, this '_White Flame_' thought he knew everything and was willing to show it off. John had to be honest, it was rather annoying. It was one thing if you were an actual, real, proper genius. But this man certainly was not.

"You will find my first victim very soon I am sure," The voice continued, "But I should warn you, if you want to catch me, you will need Mr. Sherlock Holmes's help. Tell Mr. Holmes he can either come out and find me, or people will suffer the consequences, his choice."

And with that the video ended, no one spoke for a couple of minutes, until Lestrade broke the silence. "Look, if you don't want to get involved, I understand. But I though, you should st least know about this. But if you do choose not to get involved, I trust you not to say a word about-"

"I'm in," was all John said in reply.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not just going to stand here and let some self-centered git harm people. When and where do you start?"

"Well," said Lestrade sitting forwards, "In the video he said something about his 'first victim'. My guess is we start there. Donavon! Get some men together and have start searching and investigating any new murders or John or Jane Does that come in. You know '_The White Flames_' trade mark, so you know what to look for. Got it?"

And with a final 'Yes Sir," Donavon left the room to get some men together.

"There's not much you can do right now John, just keep an eye out for anything strange. We'll call if we find anything."

John nodded and with a small "Ok, thank you." He left and made his way back to Baker Street.


	2. The Mission begins

John decided he needed to think things over, so instead of getting a cab and then sitting at home chugging down more tea, he decided that he was long over due for a nice quiet walk in the park. As he walked he looked around and noticed everything. Even though Sherlock was gone the sky was still blue, the sun still shone, the earth still went around the sun and the moon around the Earth. The wind still blew and the plants still grew, the children still played at the local playground and the older folk still sat on benches by the pond and feed the ducks that lived there.

Even though Sherlock was gone, life still went on.

It almost wasn't fair, why did the rest of the world get to continue on why he had to stay put and suffer? Because the world isn't fair, it was as simply as that. John had been in wars and if it was one thing he knew, it's that the world isn't fair. There were kids starving on the streets, youth people in abusive relationships and people dying from illnesses everywhere.

No, the world was not fair.

And now, everything that he had been trying to get past, everything he had been trying oh so hard to forget (ok maybe not forget) and move on from was being brought back up to the surface. And maybe not now, but he could almost feel the old wounds opening up and bleeding all over again.

* * *

The very next day, Lestrade called again saying that they found a body that they believe to be '_The White Flames_' first victim. John threw his coat on and was out the door in records time.

John looked back at his phone to see that Lestrade had texted him an address. He nearly yelled the address at the cab driver and was off to the crime scene.

"Afternoon Lestrade," John said upon arriving at the scene.

"Afternoon John!" Lestrade said back. To John's luck, Anderson didn't appear to be at the scene today, nope just Lestrade, Donavon, John and a couple other officers. John noticed that at a usual crime scene there were a lot more people, John figured that this whole affair was being kept in secret.

John looked down at the body, "Do you have any information about her?"

"Miss. Lydia Thomson , 19 years old, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'6, single, no other siblings, lives with father and visits mother on the weekends."

John looked up at Lestrade, "I'm guessing you didn't get all that just by looking at her?"

Lestrade handed John a two file, "You should probably look over these. One is a Missing Person's file about Miss. ,Thomson the second is a file on '_The White Flame_'. We're not the first to deal with him, we have a pretty good idea on who he is, but we have no evidence to proof it."

John looked over the files then back at the body. According the files, '_The White Flame_' all of his past victims were left with their hands bound and written in red was the single letter 'F' on the backs of their hands. This victim in particular, had a slit throat, stab wounds near chest and stomach and signs of struggle on her body.

LydiaThomson was the daughter of a unknown wrestler's manager. She was supposed to be leaving for college in about a week, and her father had listed her as a missing person 5 days ago.

"Did she having anything on her when they found her?" John asked still looking over the body.

"Only a wallet and her car keys."

"Mind if i-"

And before he could finish his sentence Lestrade handed him a bang with the items in it. Without taking the items out of the see-through bag, John looked over them.

"Once you're done here inspector I'd suggest you question her brother."

"But I thought she was an only child?" Said Donavon with a confused look on her face.

"Well, going by the picture in her wallet I'd say brother or very close friend of the family. The picture is of Lydia, her father and a boy at some dinner. Her father is a manager so I;d say his client just had a win and he invited his manager and his family to a treat. Which means it was a rather large win. And since it's work it would have to be a family member. I'm guessing the records say only child? So maybe his adopted?"

"Or?" Lestrade knew that face, John was making the same face Sherlock would when he was making a deduction.

"Well, you said the daughter visited her mother on the weekends right? So her parents are split up. So perhaps her mother remarried and the man she remarried too already had a son. Lydia here became very close with her step brother, but something happened. Something must have happened to the step father, either he died or did something that his son didn't approve of. So when he left he stayed with his step mom, but I'm guessing either she didn't want him because he reminded her of his father or he didn't like her. Well either way, because Lydia was so close to him Lydia's real father opened his house to him."

Everyone (except for Lestrade who saw how much john and Sherlock rubbed off on each other) stared wide eyed and jaw dropped at John.

"Good Work John," Lestrade said taking the bag back. "Now would you like to investigate Lydia's brother or would like one of my men?"

"Exactly inspector, could one of your men do it? There is something else I wanna look into."

Lestrade nodded, "Donavon, look into this brother of hers."

"Yes sir," Donavon said with a nod and got right on it.

* * *

Back at the Yard, John and Lestrade were standing in Lestrade's office once again.

"Earlier you said you had an idea of who '_The White Flame_' might be, may I ask who?" John said taking a seat.

"Yeah, Alexander Flames" Lestrade said throwing a file towards John. "He's the creator of a computer software system called '_The River'_, ever hear of it?"

John gave a sarcastic laugh, "Who hasn't? Pretty much everyone has it now. someone at work said they had a 10 year old computer, and when they downloaded '_The River_' it made their computer compatible with any other computer systems, high speed, they can download almost anything now, it has HD and everyone I know who got has said only positive things about. Said they can't find one flaw about it."

"Yeah well, the man who created it is our top suspect. We can't find any evidence, and he's very good about hiding his tracks."

John began to look over his file, there was quite a lot about Alexander, his connections, his computer systems.

"Look," began Lestrade, "Why don't you go home and look over all the files I gave you. We won't be doing anymore investigating until we hear back from Donavon."

John nodded, "Alright, call me if you hear ANYTHING." As he said this he stood up and made his way to the door. "Okay, Good Bye John."

* * *

_"Good Bye John."_

Those words echoed through his head as John walked down the street. Those three words, why was it that sentences with only three words could do so much to a person.

"I Love You,"

"I Hate You,"

"Good Bye John."

Three little words, that was all it took to change someone's life.

John shook his head, he was tired and stressed. All he wanted to do was get home and collapse either on the couch or his bed, he honestly didn't care which one. Why did people have to be so annoying? Why couldn't they just accept that Sherlock was gone? All this talk about Sherlock just stressed him all the more. Maybe after all this was over he would take a nice long vacation. Yes, maybe a cruise? Maybe the Bahamas or Bermuda? It honestly didn't matter to him, as long as he would get his nice warm beach, none of it mattered.

"Hey there Doc!" said a voice with a fake British accent from behind. John wiped around to see a slightly familiar face strolling up towards him. The voice belong to a young girl, about 15-16 years old, thick brown hair that was hanging in a ponytail, bluish-green eyes, and very thin but not unhealthy.

"Hello Dodgy." John said smiling at the girl, "And what do I own this pleasure to?"

Dodgy, as everyone knew her, was part of Sherlock's homeless network. John had seen Dodgy a couple times before, but he was properly introduced to her one day when she was brought to the clinic with a broken leg. From what John had learned about her she was an American, her parents were never married, her mom was a teenage mother and her father left her when she was 3 years old. She was an alcoholic and would take the money Dodgy's father gave them for child support and spent it getting drunk. One day when they could no longer afford to live in the apartment they currently lived at her mother said that she had gotten a job in another country with a cheaper apartment. What her mother didn't tell her was that she got the money by selling all her daughter's stuff.

Dodgy only realized this when her and her mother stopped for a week in London and her money gave her a small amount f money to spend at a mall. when she got back to the hotel they were staying at she found that her mother was gone. The only thing that Dodgy found left was a letter to her mother saying that Dodgy's father was found dead and all his money was to be given to Dodgy. Dodgy's mother had taken the money and left the country.

The police tried to find her but with no luck. The police were originally going to put Dodgy in a foster home, but she argued and stayed with an aunt. Final, when she was 13 years old, she ran away and lived on the streets. And within 2 weeks of living on the streets of London had she found herself working in Sherlock Holmes's homeless network. She had no money, and besides her aunt (who cared less what happened to the girl and was glad she was gone) no other relatives, the streets of London were a better home then any other place she had ever lived.

"So of my mates said they saw you down at a crime scene with Inspector Lestrade."

John sighed, ever since he learned about the Dodgy's history he has wanted to help her. But Dodgy had a bad habit of being almost as stubborn as a Holmes.

"And you wanted to know if you could help?" He said, now walking with her side-by-side.

"You know I hate just sitting around doing nothing."

John stopped for a moment, "Actually, there is something you can do."

Dodgy perked up, "Yeah! What?"

"Alexander Flames, ever heard of him?"

Dodgy thought for a moment, then nodded her head. "Owns a big computer company yeah?"

"Get some people together and find out all you can about him. And also, find out about a certain McGregor family. Mr. Thomson is a wrestler, ever heard of him?"

"You mean 'The Crasher'? Bernie Thomson?"

"Yeah him, find out all you can about him and get me information about his connections, family, friends, enemies, got it?"

"And?" Dodgy said making a face. John reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, he got out five 10's, "Give one 10 to anyone else who helps you. If you have any extra, keep it."

And with a smile Dodgy nearly flew off on her mission. Before John turned away he saw her with two other people, one he recognized from the homeless network and the other one he didn't recognize, but assumed he was part of the network.

Once back at 221B John had just enough energy to make it to his bed.

"Right, nap first then tea,"

And with that he fell into a deep sleep which would be woken later by the sound of text message on his phone.


	3. Keeping an Eye on things

After his nap, John saw he had a message from Lestrade asking him to come down to his office again. John rushed down without stopping for anyone; he didn't look to see if anyone was staring at him, or try and see if there was a way to get to Lestrade's office without running into Anderson. No, he had one thing in mind, get to Lestrade's office and solve this case as soon as possible! Ok, maybe two, but that didn't matter.

"Any news?" John said entering Lestrade's office.

"See for yourself."

The screen turned on, it was another message from '_The White Flame"._

"I know what you are trying to do," the high pitched voice began. "In case I didn't make it clear before, I want Sherlock Holmes to find me. Him and him alone. Either you get Sherlock Holmes on this case or more bodies will be found all over London!"

John let out an annoyed sigh; This guy had to be kidding! John wanted nothing more than to punch this idiot in the face. Why are some people so thick?

"Oh yes, good work Dr. Watson with Miss. Thomas, she was a pretty little thing. I almost felt bad about it. ALMOST. But anyways, I do hope you continue to work with Mr. Holmes, it would be a shame if you missed out all the fun we're going to have! Oh and here's a clue for the next one: I am but one voice, yet I millions hear me."

And with that the message ended.

"So, what do we do?" Lestrade asked John. Sherlock was gone, and "_The White Flame'_ would only come out for him. Why? Why was it so important that Sherlock was on this case? What was the point to all this? And he gave them a clue, why was he so eager to get caught?

And idea snapped in John's mind, it was stupid, it was crazy, and it could never work. But, he only needs to look like him...No, it could never work, it just couldn't!

"John?" Lestrade could see the look on John's face, it brightened then fell. He had an idea, maybe not the best idea, but an idea none the less.

"What if...What if we got someone who looked like Sherlock?"

"What!?"

"I mean, they could follow us onto crime scenes, made it look like he was solving the case...we could, I don't know, tell him to say stuff to suspects and officers...But I mean, who could possibly play Sherlock?"

Lestrade stood speechless, play Sherlock? Could they do that? Was that even a possibility? Was there even anyone on earth could possibly fit the part? It was mad! Completely insane! But it was their only choice.

"We could, I don't know, hire an actor or something?"

"But where do we start?"

* * *

On the streets of India a tall dark figure was walking away from a man being taken away by authorities from another country. As the men walked away from the scene a beeping noise came from is pocket. As he reached in he fished out a cell phone that had been recently given to him.

**How much have you gotten done? -MH**

**1 down, 2 to go. -Sh**

**I suggest you hurry; things are getting rather out of hand in London. -MH**

**What happened? -SH**

**I sent the information to your email. -MH**

Sherlock Holmes (Who was now going by Caractacus Einson) returned to his motel room and quickly got out his laptop which his brother gave him the day before he left. He opened his email and click on the one from his brother. Inside was file from Mycroft's men saying how Lestrade and Dr. Watson were scene at a theater interviewing actors. But not just any actors, no, actors who looked somewhere like Sherlock. They had gone to about 3 different theaters and interviewed about 8 different people. But Lestrade and John didn't seem pleased with any of them.

What on earth were they trying to do? Get a replacement Sherlock? Sherlock laughed at the thought of it, but it was more of a Stop-acting-like-an-idiot-when-I-know-you're-bette r-than-this kind of laugh.

**What is the newest case Lestrade was working on? -SH**

**I'm looking into it right now, apparently it was top secret. -MH**

A top secret case? And John was part of it? That couldn't be good, Sherlock would have to step his search and move faster (not that he wasn't pushing himself already). It had been 3 days since Sherlock last slept and 5 since he ate. He would need to eat soon; he didn't want to crash and risk the entire mission. He decided that as long as he was here he might as well try real Indian food.

He returned 2 hours later with a half full stomach. Sherlock figured he ate more because his mind was too busy thinking about the case in London rather than focusing on how much he ate.

He sat waiting for Mycroft to get back to him on the edge of his bed.

*Beep*

**Ever heard of '_The White Flame_'? Apparently he wants your attention, he is convinced you faked your death and is now beginning a killing spree and wants you to stop him. -MH**

**And what am I suppose to do about it? -SH **

**Hurry home Sherlock. -MH**

Sherlock sighed, he wanted too; he so wanted to hurry home. To run back and tell John and get back to solving cases and showing off in front of Lestrade. And he wouldn't even think about much he missed Mrs. Hudson's tea. And the fact that he was making Molly lie wasn't exactly good either. He couldn't express how much he wanted this to be over. He opened his cell phone back opened and went through his contacts and sent a text message.

**Keep a watch on John; don't know when I'll be back. Keep him out of harm's way and make sure this '_White Flame_' doesn't get him either. Keep me updated as well. -SH**

* * *

Back in London, Dodgy stood a computer company when her phone went off. It wasn't offend when Mr. Holmes texted her with orders, but when he did she made sure to follow them as if she were a solider taking orders from her captain. When she read the text she smiled, even miles away, Mr. Holmes still kept an eye on London.

Before Sherlock left, he gave the homeless network two rules until he came back.

1. Keep an eye on John Watson, Mrs. Hudson and Greg Lestrade. NOTHING is to happen to them.

2. Only respond to any messages that have to deal with anything that connects to the Holmes when told.

Other than that, life was to go on like any other day. As they went about asking for money, traveling from place to place, they would stop every once in awhile and watching the three. They would take turns following John to work, home, to the store, anywhere he went. Another group of people would take turns watching Lestrade, when he went to work, when he came home, and sometimes everyone in the group would stick around a certain area if they knew he was working on a dangerous case.

Dodgy was had just been waiting outside for a friend to come out with information about Alexander Flames. Dodgy laughed, this '_White Flame_' reminded her of a boy and his dog who lived next door when she was a child. The dog was a bull dog and was tied up to his doghouse, he was for the most part a friendly dog, but if you upset him, he could certainly do some damage. The neighbor's boy would come out and hit the dog with a stick then run away. The dog would chase after him, but only to be jerked but when he came to the end of the rope. The boy would stand there, laughing, mocking the dog, as the bull dog would struggle to try and bit and bark at the boy.

"Did you find anything?" Dodgy said as a man she knew as Daniels came out of the building.

"Not here." As all he said they walked together away from the building.

* * *

"Nothing, not one of them even looks a little like Sherlock! Even a make-up job couldn't help them!" Lestrade said in frustration.

"We'll find someone." John said hopefully but instead doubt filled it.

"We'd better and soon. We have a killer running around loose threatening to kill."

"Heard anything from Donavon about the Thomas family?" John said trying to change the subject.

"Yeah, you were spot on about everything. Lydia's step father died, her mother was into drugs so her step son went to live with Lydia and her father. The only thing he knew was that his step sister went missing a couple days after he last saw her. Said she wasn't acting strange or anything, nothing unusual."

John nodded; this wasn't going to be easy. He was worried he had hit a dead end; his last hope was that the homeless network had found something, anything.

It was right about than that Donavon walked in, "Sir? There's a young girl here to see Dr. Watson, said it was urgent."

While Lestrade was lost in confusion, John knew exactly who it was.

"John?" Lestrade said seeing a hopeful looking on his face.

"Friend of mine," he said to Lestrade, then he turned back to Donavon, "Tell Dodgy I'll be down in a minute." Sally nodded and left.

"Friend?" Lestrade repeated,

"Well, more or less. She helped Sherlock out a couple of times, thought she could be useful for the case."

Lestrade nodded, "Well, call if you hear anything."

"I'll be sure to." John said and got up and left.

* * *

"Dodgy! You got anything for me?"

John said as he approached the young girl, "Sure do! A friend of mine, Daniel, knows someone who works for '_The River'_." As she said this she handed John a piece of paper.

"And another buddy of mine said he found out Mr. Alexander Flames has been away doing business in Tokyo. But his wife has been seen here in London. Mrs. Flames works as a promoter, she was recently partnering with promoting wrestling matches."

John nodded, "Do you think it was his wife then?"

"But..." Dodgy continued for John, she saw the look on his face,

"But how did Lydia Thomas get caught up in this?"

John looked down and unfolded the paper Dodgy gave him. It was a piece of advertisement that read:

"_Come to the grand opening of Webz, live music, free wifi, and free food!"_

"Webz...? Is that that new computer store opening a couple blocks down from Baker Street?"

"Yeah, and look at this!" Dodgy said pointing to the bottom of the paper.

"_The cutting of the ribbon will be done by Mr. Alexander Flames, creator of 'The River'."_

"So? What does connect Flames to our case?" John said looking up,

"My friend who went down to Mr. Flames's company spoke with his secretary and she said that Flames isn't going to be back till later tonight. But the opening is tomorrow."

John smiled, "Dodgy that's it!"

"What's it? I don't understand?"

"Nothing! I have to get home and check something! But thanks Dodgy! I own you!" John said as he flagged a down a taxi.

**Guessing John just got a led in the case. Ever hear of a Mr. Flames? -D**

**No, and keep an eye on him. Let me or Mycroft know if you think he might be getting into any danger. -SH**


	4. Just a Friendly Reminder

As soon as John ran into 221B he raced to find his laptop. He searched up all the flights that would be leaving from now till tomorrow when the opening of _Webz_ would be. "Ah!" He yelled out in joy, due to a storm that had been in the Tokyo area, the first flight wouldn't be leaving till later that evening. So it would be impossible for Mr. Flames to fly back in time for the opening of the store in the morning.

John flew out his phone and speed dialed Lestrade.

"Hello Greg? Yeah It's John, I think I've found something..."

* * *

*2 Months Later*

Although John Watson's hunch was correct, they could find no evidence that him lying about where he was connected him in any way to the death of Lydia Thomas. In the end the blame was put on Mr. Flames secretary and it was found that she was stealing from the company and was lying to keep any threats away from the office and finding the truth. She was arrested and most of the officers were saying 'Case closed!' all except a Inspector Greg Lestrade, John Watson and Sally Donavon who knew that there was much, much more to this. Unfortunately they didn't hear back from '_The White Flame_' till 3 later, and with yet another victim.

As John was getting ready to leave for the crime scene, _'The White Flame's'_ words echoed in his head, about being only one voice, yet millions heard him? How? Maybe his next victim was a part of a political party, or was the child of some governor. Unfortunately for him, because the case was 'closed' he had to wait till someone opened it again for him to start investigating. They received another message from '_The_ White_ Flame' _that if Mr. Holmes didn't start getting involved, then other people will. Innocent people. And with Lestrade and John search for someone who, on the least, looked like Sherlock being such a failure, there was little hope for anyone.

* * *

In another cheap and crummy motel room, Caractacus Einson (a.k.a Sherlock Holmes) was sprawled out on his bed deep in thought when his phone rang.

**How goes the search little brother? -MH**

**The second shooter is being held by the local authorities. After seeing his files he will most likely be hanged. -SH**

**Now tell me, how many people did you have to go through to get to this one? -MH**

**Only five this time, most of them were taken out quite easily, only one of them actually died. -SH**

**Who is left? -MH**

**Sebastian Moran. -SH **

**Check your e-mail. -MH**

And that's just what Caractacus Einson/Sherlock Holmes did. A wide grin grew on his face when he saw the file Mycroft sent him. Inside this email was the location of where and when Sebastian Moran was last seen. _One more person, one more, and then I can go home._ Sherlock got up in a flash and began packing, he finished quite quickly too, but that had to do more with the fact that he had very few things to pack.

Once Sherlock was done packing, all that was left to do was wait for morning when a plane would be waiting for him to take him to his next stop, thanks to Mycroft. As he waited he looked in a mirror that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. He looked so different, his hair was bleached, he wore colored eye contacts, and he had gotten a tan and was wearing a pair of cheap jeans, a gray t-shirt and a black hoodie. All together, it made him look a much younger version of himself. A drug addicted, spiteful, much stupider version of himself.

Morning couldn't come slower, to be honest, Sherlock wanted to leave the moment he learned Sebastian Moran's location. But if he had, it would have been too obvious and Sherlock would be killed with the next few hours. Well, if most of Moriarty's men were still there that's how it would have been, but now most were either dead, in prison cells or fleeing for their lives, and Sherlock was determined to fine every last one of them.

* * *

Back in London, in a darkened alley next to a small clothes and a small bakery, was the body of a Samuel Tomarus. "What can you give me Lestrade?" John said upon arriving.

"Samuel Tomarus, 17 years old, American, junior in high school. Was on a trip with a couple mates of his, their all down at the Yard right now bring questioned. From the looks of it, they all went out for pint, he had one too many, got in a fight and bleed to death."

As John examined the body he noticed that around the neck there were signs that Samuel was strangled, and on his stomach was bruises, three different ones, each one a different size.

"Did any of his friends see who killed him?" John said without looking up from the body.

"No, but his friend who he was sharing a room with said that before they went out he received a phone call from his dad asking how he was and telling him to come home."

"We're trying to reach his dad as we speak," Donavon injected, "But no luck speaking with him yet. Apparently his dad traveled a lot and Samuel here was home with his mum most of the time."

Lestrade spoke back up, "His mum said the last time she heard from her son was two nights ago, and he seemed fine. She said she spoke with her husband last when right after his plane landed in Florida in the States. He does have a younger sister, but she's away in a private school and knew nothing of her brother's death."

John nodded, "Well keep trying to reach the father, I suspect he knows something. Well anyways, guessing from the bruises on Samuel stomach, I'd say there were three different men, all much older than him. I don't think they just picked a fight with him, no, I back alley, at night, away from the road and away from anyone who might hear him. I think Samuel here, was a target."

John stood up and went back towards Lestrade, "Get in touch with his father at all costs, find out if his families had any enemies." Lestrade turned to Donavon and nodded, "You got that?"Donavon nodded back and got right onto finding the boy's father.

Lestrade turned back to John, "John, I need you to come with me. I think I might have someone."

John eyes light up, could it be? Was their searching finally over? If Lestrade had found someone, then '_The White Flame_' might start showing himself a bit more.

"Oh yes Lestrade, I never asked, what does Samuel's father do for a living?"

"Oh yes, he's an announcer at football games, you know, American football? You know, like at the Superbowel, and stuff like that."

Oh.

Oh yes! One voice that millions hear! Now he really wanted to speak with Samuel's father.

"DONAVON!" John called out before she had left,

"Yeah? What is it?"

"As soon as you get in touch with Samuel's father tell me! I need to speak with him!"

* * *

"So, where are we going?" John asked as he looked out the window of Lestrade's car.

"We're going to go meet a William Andrews; the theater gave me a call earlier today saying that he was new in town but worked in a theater back in Washington D.C. in the States. He was born and raised in London but moved to America when he got married so his wife could be closer to her ill mother. About a year ago her mother died and shortly after so did his wife. I talked with him the other day and the theater sent me a picture of him. You would not believe the likeness!"

They pulled up into a driveway of a small apartment building. "William said he had been staying with his sister until he could afford a place of his own. I was think... If he does, you know, end up helping us, maybe he should, I don't know, move in with you?"

Just the thought of it nearly shocked John. Him, share a flat with someone other than Sherlock!? was that even legal? He still hadn't cleared out all of Sherlock's stuff. Of course he had to get rid of all the old body parts, but things like violin or his skull stayed exactly where Sherlock had last put them.

"I don't know Lestrade I mean...Well, I suppose he could stay in 221C, but I'd have to talk with Mrs. Hudson about that."

Lestrade gave a sad smile, "Well, who know, I mean, we haven't even meet the guy yet!"

John stood nervously as Lestrade knocked on the door. He was about to meet someone who looked exactly like Sherlock, how was he going to explain this to his therapist? Or Harry? Or what about Mrs. Hudson? Well, her he could tell her the truth. But how could he live with someone who looked like Sherlock? It would only be a daily reminder that Sherlock was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The door was answered by a man, about 6 feet tall, curly dark hair, thin, pale, and very noticeable cheekbones. He was wearing a pair of designer jeans, a silk light blue shirt with the cuffs pulled up to his elbows.

"Ah! You must be Greg Lestrade and John Watson! My manager told me you two were going to stop by, please come in! I just put the kettle on so tea such be ready in a minute or two."

_Ah yes, defiantly British, _John thought. He had to admit, he looked almost exactly like Sherlock! There were a couple things different, but could easily fool anyone who wasn't close friends with Sherlock.

"Thank, Mr. Andrews is it?" Lestrade said entering the apartment with John close behind him.

"Yes, but please, call me William."

"Yes well William, I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade, and this here is Dr. John Watson."

William put his hand out for John to shake it, "Dr. Watson, It's a pleasure."

John shook his hand and replied, "The pleasure is all mine." But to be honest, this was anything but pleasure, all this man did was remind him of Sherlock, of how John didn't save him, of how should have seen the signs. All he did was remind John of what he didn't do, and what he could have, and what he should have.

"Now, William, let's get down to business."


	5. 221C

Lestrade and John made themselves comfortable in William's living room. As William got the tea ready, John and Lestrade looked around they surroundings. BY the looks of the room, William's sister was a very tidy person, but her apartment was becoming more of a mess since her brother had moved in. From what Lestrade had learned (Had had a background check on both William and his sister) Cathrine Andrews worked as lawyer, a very successful one too. Her apartment was very modest, the walls were cream color and the couches were a dark brown which complemented the room quite well. Another then the mugs left laying around (which was most likely left by William because they were all left near his laptop, most likely left while looking for a place of his John figured) and a few boxes here and there, it was a welcoming cozy apartment.

"You checked them both out?" John said as he looked around the room.

"Yeah, neither have any criminal records or suspicious pasts."

"So," said William entering the room with three mugs, "My manager said you had a job for me? A rather unusual job?"

"Yes, well you see, as you know I'm a DI, and right now me and my friend Dr. Watson here on a very important case, and we need your help," Lestrade said taking a mug.

"I'll help in any way I can." William said handing a mug to John.

"Well William, have you ever heard of Sherlock Holmes?" John began.

William thought for a moment, it was only then John remember that William that lived in America, so the chances that he did were very slim. "Oh yes, A mate of mine told me about him. I looked him up on the web. He was some kind of detective; I think his friend ran a blog or something, other than that I don't know about the bloke. Didn't he die or something?"

John gave a sad smile, "Yeah, about 3 months ago, I was his friend who ran the blog."

"Oh...I'm sorry, didn't realize."

"Yeah, well anyways, as you know, Sherlock was a consulting detective, and about a month after his death (John refused to use the word suicide) the Scotland Yard began receiving messages from a criminal know as '_The White Flame_' is threatening the public unless Sherlock will take on the case."

"But I thought he was dead?"

"Yes well, our '_White Flame_' is convinced that it was all a hoax. That's why we need your help, you looked almost like Sherlock Holmes, and all we need you to do is show up at the crime scenes and play the part of Sherlock. I'll be by our side the whole time telling you what to say and who to say it to."

"So, basically you want me to help you fool this '_White Flame_'? For how long?"

"We're not quite sure" Lestrade budded in, "We already have an idea on who '_The White Flame_' is, we just need evidence."

John could see William wasn't convinced, "Money, of course, is no object."

William perked up a bit, but still didn't look convinced, but more looked a bit surprised. John sighed, "And, we might be able to arrange a place for to be staying. You'll be under watch the whole time so no need to worry about being in any danger."

That seemed to do it, "Alright, I guess I'm in. I need both the money and the room. So you just give me date when you want to start!"

Lestrade gave a small sigh of relief, "That's great! Well John and I have to look into getting the room for you, so we'll be talking with you tomorrow then?"

"Until tomorrow than!" William said as all three stood up. William showed the two to the door and waved as they drove away.

* * *

"What's the boy's name?" asked Mrs. Hudson as she sipped her afternoon tea.

John made it a habit after Sherlock's death that every few days, to have a nice cup of tea with Mrs. Hudson. John knew that she and Sherlock were very close, how long they knew each other was a mystery to him, but he knew it must have been sometime.

"William Andrews, but that's not all Mrs. Hudson,"

"Oh?"

"Well, you know how I've been working on that case with Lestrade?"

"Yes?"

"Well, the criminal we're after has convinced himself that Sherlock's death was a fake and wants Sherlock to take the case. He's already killed two people, that we know of, and threatens to kill more if Sherlock doesn't come out."

"Oh dear, what are you doing to do? This must be hard for dear."

"Yes, well that's where Mr. Andrews fits in. You see, he looks almost exactly like Sherlock. Me and Lestrade figure that if we can fool him into thinking Sherlock is on the case, we can get him to come out and we might be able to caught him."

"And you need a room here as part of his cover?"

"That would be idle, it will only be for a while, and I know this is a lot to ask of you, but it's for the safety of others. If we don't do something soon, more dead bodies will be showing up on the streets of London!"

Mrs. Hudson gave a small sigh, "You're lucky I just had that room fixed up."

"Mrs. Hudson you're a saint! Of course you should know that we'll be paying for the room and for any damages that might be caused in there. Mrs. Hudson, you really are too much!"

* * *

3 days later William Andrews began unpacking into 221C. He gave a little nod of approval as he looked around and placed a final box in the room. "Yes, it does have some potential." he said to himself as he unpacked.

In 221B, John sat in his chair sipping his tea. The more he thought about the more it wrecked his nerves. There was a man who looked almost exactly like Sherlock moving, would be coming to crime scenes and solving a case with him. This was insane! _Get a grip John, this isn't permanent, once this case is solved he'll be gone and you can get right back to your attempt to move on with your life without- no don't think about! Just drink your tea and watch crap telly, just exist, never living._

In a office at the Scotland Yard, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade sat in his office with his hands together supporting his head. He couldn't image what this was doing to John and Mrs. Hudson, to have to live with someone who was a daily reminder that their friend was dead. Lestrade could see the stress on everyone's face when he told his men about their plan. This wasn't going to be easy on anyone.

In another office in London, there was a man who held a '_small position in the British government'. _It seemed everyday was more stressful than the last. With his younger brother flying across the globe taking down a criminal web and trying to keep his brother existence a secret from his best friend who was having a...William Andrews move in? Odd.

"Have a background check on a William Andrews and his family. Report back to me at once!"

His PA got back in records time, not that there was a record but if there was one, she would place first, second and third. "Sir, here is the file on William Andrews, apparently both parents are dead, as if his wife and her mother. Lives with his younger sister." Said the PA known to most by 'Athena' as she placed the file on Mycroft Holmes's desk.

Mycroft sighed, "Place John Watson on level 7 security, this 'William Andrews' on level 4, and his sister on level 3."

"Yes sir." she said as she continued typing on her blackberry.

_Oh,_

William Andrews? When Mycroft saw his picture a sense of concern overtook him immediately. He looked almost exactly like Sherlock! No, that wasn't right, and he was moving into 221C huh? This was not good. No, if Sebastian Moran saw him he might mistake him for Sherlock and would kill John on site. And if the papers found out about this William Andrews? Oh they would have a field day! Although. Mycroft Holmes had hoped they had learned their lesson after what he did to Miss Kitty Riley. Mycroft smiled at that memory, there was nothing that could make him pity her.

"Get me Greg Lestrade on line 3 and Caractacus Einson on line 1."


	6. The Crime Scene

Mycroft Holmes was almost never board; he simply had too much to do. First he had to make sure Sherlock was getting himself into much trouble and might end up getting himself killed. After he had to check up on John, this part of the day was less stressing than the others. John, for the most part, lived a pretty routine life. Every morning he would get up, get his clothes out, shower, eat, grab a few things then head to work, came home, made tea, watched crap telly, then bed. Sometimes John would switch things up and go out for a walk or go met up with someone, that's when Mycroft had fun guessing where John would go, watching his every move. Mycroft had to admit, John was pretty amusing.

After John came William Andrews. Once William came into the picture, Mycroft didn't spend as much time watching John or his brother. No, this man could be a threat; best keep an eye on him. Although Mycroft did actually watch people all the time, he kept tabs on them in others ways. Watching on a screen was all too easy, and sometimes, not every was kind enough to have a security camera in their house so Mycroft could hack into them. So instead, he had men follow them; he somehow got bugs placed on them. These skills came in handy when dealing with people like Catharine Andrews. She seemed innocent enough, but she was a lawyer, never underestimate a lawyer.

After her came Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. After finishing up on his daily watches, Mycroft then had to get onto his normal work. As if all that stress wasn't enough, Mycroft was having a hard enough time trying (but failing) to stay on his diet. So famous person had a birthday party over the week that Mycroft was forced to attend and what party doesn't have cake? But not only was it a cake, no, it was a triple chocolate cake with dark chocolate frosting and chocolate shreds on the top. But not only did he have a piece (more like 3 pieces) he brought some back with him, and it was calling for him.

"Sir? We have Mr. Einson on line 1." His PA said as she brought in a piece of the chocolate cake. "Thank you," was all he said. _Oh yes, thank you for bring in cake right before I talk with Sherlock so now I'll be drooling all over the phone! _Mycroft honestly wasn't to angry, all his anger melted away as he put a single bite in his mouth.

"Caractacus? Where are you?" Mycroft said eyeing his cake.

"Ah! Hello Brian! How are you!?" Said a familiar voice.

"SHER- Mr. Einson, would you please tell me your location?" Mycroft near yelled into the phone. Sherlock hadn't been keeping to the plan, he hadn't spoken or texted Mycroft in 4 days. Anything could happen in 4 days. Sherlock could have been caught, he could have been killed, that idiot! Why did he have to do everything his way and never listen to anyone!

"Caractacus, if you do not keep to the plan I will no longer fund you and keep any information I get to myself! Do I make myself clear!?"

"Ugh! Fine! I just finished getting my room; I'm going to go met someone who says they have some information about Mr. Moran."

"Mr Einson, please tell me where exactly you are or I won't tell the information I have acquired."

"What!? You've learned something? Tell me!"

"First tell me where you are!"

"You first!"

"Sherlock, don't be childish with me, you can either tell me or I'm hanging up right now!"

"Fine! I'm sending you in an e-mail. Now tell me what you know!"

"It appears Lestrade has asked Dr. Watson for his assistance on a case."

"Yes, with '_The White Flame_' so I'm told. You mean they haven't figured it out yet?"

Mycroft sighed, of course Sherlock knew about the case. It seems whenever something DOES happen in John Watson's life it somehow id related to Sherlock. It seems the poor man can't live his own life.

"Yes, it seems '_The white Flame' _wants you and you alone to take on the case. And now the Yard and Dr. Watson it seems have been put in a position where they must take drastic moves."

"Like what?"

"They've hired an actor who looks exactly like you to join them on the case. This could cause us some problems. I'll try and keep them out of the papers, but I can't make any promised."

Now Sherlock sighed, he could only image what this was doing to John.

_Just a few more weeks, that's all I need, then I can go home and set everything right again._

"Ok, I won't be much longer. I need a little more time, I'm so close. I think I know where he is and what his next move is. But I need to be sure; I could just be another serial killer again. And that would make all this a waste of time. I have to go My, keep me in updated. And with that Sherlock hung up, he was almost there; he was so close he could feel it!

Mycroft Holmes supported his head with his hands and gave a heavy sigh.

Oh yes, that's right.

His cake was still waiting for him. He took a rather large bite, all this was making his stressful. It was times like this where he was thankful for the man who discovered chocolate.

* * *

In a common house, in a common neighborhood, a kidnapping had taken place. DI Lestrade, Dr. John Watson and William Andrews all stood in the living room of the victim to see what they could find. "Victim's name was Samantha Howard, 28 years old, married, had a job as a up and coming model. Her husband came home and found his house vandalized and his wife missing."

"Who is her husband?" Asked John looking at a smashed picture on a fireplace mantle.

"Ever heard of '_The King'?"_

"You mean the famous wrestler?"

"Yeah, he came home after a match and found his house like this. We've already connected all his rivals and their managers and all her rivals and their managers, none of them seem like likely kidnappers. But we are having further investigations."

"What about family and friends? Do they know anything?"

"No, Mrs. Howard was an only child and her mother died when she was a kid, she hadn't spoken to her father since she turned 18 and moved out. I got Donavon looking for him. Mr. Howard only living family members is his brother, who was with his during the match."

"Right. Have you gotten anywhere in the search for Samuel Tomarus's father?"

"Anderson said that they found him and are bring him in tomorrow for questioning."

William looked around the room careful not to touch anything. The room was covered glass from smashed picture frames, glass from the television and from the window from the kidnapper broken into. "Have you guys dusted for any finger prints?" William asked.

Both Lestrade and John turned to face him.

"What?" William said defensively.

"N-nothing," Lestrade said turning away.

John gave a small smirk, of course they had dusted, Anderson would have never let someone on the crime scene with his dusting everything first, in fact, John was pretty sure that was the first thing Anderson did on a scene. He wanted to be able to SOMETHING before Sherlock would get there. And dusting is the one thing he was actually good at.

"To answer your questions, yes Anderson did. We sent the prints in to see if we could find any matches. Well anyways, have you got anything John?"

John was quite for a moment, and then began his deductions.

"They own a large dog, a German Shepherd or a Boxer. The dog was given to them as a present by his brother as a wedding present, which the brother was also the best man at. Mr. Howard was close with his brother and when he found out he was having financial problems he asked him to stay here with his wife. According to the media, Mr. Howard has been spending a lot of time away from home. From what I remember from last week's show, he still has 3 more matches before the big tournament. So why would he come home? If his brother was with him then he wouldn't be worried about his wife having an affair with him. Something must have happened that would cause Mr. Howard to worry about his wife."

"H-how did you know all that?" William said with a more confused than amazed look on his face. It was strange feeling, there was Sherlock standing there asking how JOHN knew everything. Oh wait, that's right, that's not Sherlock, no that was a look-a-like who knew nothing about the science of deduction.

"Well, for starters, look on the fool. There are marks on the floor, stairs and windows, three places where does would leave marks from their claws. Their very deep so they must be made by a bigger dog. There on the mantle shows a picture of the Mr. and Mrs. Howard on their wedding day with their wedding parties. The groom and the man next to him look very similar, so they must be brothers. I wasn't sure until Lestrade said that his brother was at the match, meaning they must be very close and his brother supports him during matches and, most likely, training. On the mantle next to the wedding picture is a picture also taken on their wedding with the brother, groom and bride holding a pup, pretty big give away. I've also seen Mr. Howard in a couple of magazines, from what it said that he has a private training house out in the country somewhere. And with more matched coming up, his manager would want him training as much as possible. If anything, he would have gone out with his wife somewhere, then gone back to his hotel and left in the morning. But because he came home means he knew something was wrong."

William stood wide eyed and jaw dropped, "H-how-"

John smiled; he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride well up inside him. Was this how Sherlock felt all the time?

"Right, thank you." Lestrade said getting off his phone, "That was Donavon; she said she had both Mr. Tomarus and Mr. Howard down at the station. Do you want to question them?"

John turned to William, who looked as lost as ever, then turned back to Lestrade.

"No, but I think Sherlock will want too."

William's eyes widen again. "But- but I can't I mean-"

"Don't worry, I'll tell you what to ask and be giving you instructions the whole time!" John said putting his hand on William's shoulder and giving him a warm smile.

As the three began to leave, John stopped for a moment and looked back into the living room. It almost seemed right, but there was still a sense of wrongness in the air. Like the world was slowly shifting back to how it should be, but was shifting the wrong way. _I'm doing this for you, Sherlock_ thought John as he stared off into space. Something wouldn't let go, no, not until this was over and he could finally move on. He gave a sigh and left the house, and as he did one sentence ran through his head,

_Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side._


	7. The Interrogation

The person they were to question was James Tomarus, who was sitting in a interrogation room. James in his late 30's, had light brown hair and fine pale skin. He worked as an announcer for different sports. He had done a number of American Football games, soccer games, boxing matches, wrestling matches, and a few basketball tournaments. He would traveling quite a lot and was normally home only a few days of the week if any.

On the other side of the interrogation room was John, William, Lestrade, Donavon and another officer.

"Right so William, put this ear piece in and I'll tell you what to say." John said handing William the piece. "Remember, your name is Sherlock Holmes, your a consulting detective, I'm your flatmate and blogger. You are not to show any kind of emotions, pity, nervousness, anxiousness, nothing. Don't be afraid to stare him down."

William gave a quick "right, ok" along with a nod and placed the ear piece in his ear.

* * *

"James Tomarus." William said entering the interrogation room. In the room there was only a table with two chairs, one in which James was sitting in, and the other empty.

William walked over to the other side of the table and took the empty sit.

"Tell me Mr. Tomarus, what did you speak to your son about on the night me died?" John said into the ear piece.

"Tell me Mr. Tomarus, what did you speak to your son about on the night me died?" William repeated.

James sighed, "I was worried, Samuel had never been out of the country before. As you know, I travel a lot, so I didn't find out about his trip until the day before. I was fine at first, until I found out it was with him and his friends. Samuel was a smart kid...but...he was still a kid."

"He's lying." John said,

"You're lying." William said in a deep voice. Earlier Lestrade had let william listen to a recording of Sherlock, and William was trying his hard to do an impress of him.

"His quite good, reminds me a bit too much of the frea- of Sherlock." Donavon comment, she caught herself as she remembered Anderson's broken jaw.

Lestrade and John made no comment.

James claps his hands together and brought them to his forehead. Just by looking at him you could tell he was under a lot of stress.

"James, your son is dead, many other people will dead also, many other son's will die as well if you don't tell us what happened." John said, he tried to remain as clam and cool as possible. John sympathized for James. He had just lost his son, most likely something or someone else had threatened him, and now he was being interrogated.

William repeated John word-for-word, and it seemed James was being to crack.

"There was a man."

Everyone perked up and listened carefully.

"I knew about Sam's trip long before he went. I received a phone call, I don't know it was from, it was high pitched, but the voice said that if I didn't say a certain message over that next week's wrestling match, than he would kill my son..."

James Tomarus was now in tears, "I tried call my son, but my wife said that he had left the day before."..."I began to panic, so I tried calling my son, I didn't tell him what had happened, I just told him he needed to come home. I told him I was going to have someone come and get him. But the next day, my PA came back and said he wasn't at the hotel and none of his friends knew where he was. Three days later, I received a phone call from an officer telling what had happened to my son."

James was all but sobbing, he was trying his hardest to stop the tears, but nothing seemed to work.

"There's more," said John.

"There's more," said William.

"four days ago, I got another phone call saying that if I didn't say the message during the wrestling match, which is three days from now, that the same thing would happen to my wife and daughter." The dams broke and James was sobbing now. He was useless, helpless, and pathetic, that least in his mind.

He was suppose to keep his family safe, to protect his son. And even when he knew what kind of danger they were in, he could do anything. Images of his wife and daughter dead flashed through his head. Things were just getting better, ever since James took the job his wife and his marriage had been falling apart. He had recently decided to take more time off and was working with his wife and things were starting to get better. This was wrong, it wasn't suppose to happen.

"Alright William, we're done now."

William gave a small nod and walked out of the room. Once out, he ripped the ear piece out and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. As he walked into the room where the others were, he found them wrapping everything up.

"We have 2 hours until we question Mr. Howard, I suggest you get something to eat." John said handing William some money.

* * *

**2 hours later**

With ear piece back in, sitting back in the chair he sat in not too long ago, William began to talk with Mr. Howard's about his wife's kidnapping.

"Tell me all you know," John said with all steadiness into the ear piece.

"Tell me all you know," William repeated in the interrogation room.

"After a match, me and brother Moses usually go out and have a pint to celebrate. But since I've been away with the training and all, I decided to go see Sam, my wife. But when I got home the place was trashed. I immediately called the police."

"Ask him what happened to the dog." John spoke quietly.

"I understand you have a very large dog, what happened to it? It wasn't at the house when we searched-"

"And there were marks on the ground indicating that the dog attacked the kidnapper." John added,

William repeated everything John said, he felt nervous. Like somehow Mr. Howard was going to see through him and know he wasn't Mr. Holmes. If someone did see through him, everything DI Lestrade and Dr. Watson had done these past months would be in vain.

"Monky, the dog'd name was Monky. When I got home, I found him beaten up and wounded so I brought him to vet. He's staying there for a couple of days until he is fully recovered."

"He's lying." John said almost intently.

"Your're lying." William repeated. William tried so hard to keep a straight face. How could Dr. Watson know that?

Mr. Howard went pale. "I'm telling the truth!Look, I- I don't know anything! All I know is that my wife is gone, my brother won't go back to the house cause now he's paranoid, his stupid dog is recovering! I don't know anything else!" Mr. Howard took a deep breath to clam himself, it was obvious he knew something, perhaps someone was black mailing him? Thought John, that's when John had an idea.

"Ask Mr. Howard to see his phone."

"May I see your phone Mr. Howard?"

Mr. Howard turned white as a sheet, "Wh- What for?"

William put his hand out towards Mr. Howard, "May I?"

Mr. Howard's face face in defeat and handed over his phone. "Fine, you win. Someone has been black mailing me."

"Look through his text messages" John said.

William did just that and found an text from '_The White Flame"_

**If you care for wife's safety than lose the next match. -'_The White__ Flame'_**

* * *

John Watson sat thinking in his chair at 221B. 2 murders and 1 kidnapping, they all have to do with either wrestling or sports. If 'The White Flame' was anything like Moriarty, (Which John was desperately hoping he wasn't)then this was only to show off. John had figured that because 'The White Flame' wanted Mr. Howard to loose, then he must have a large amount of money placed on the other guy.

But one thing still confused John, Mr. Howard said that he hadn't meant to win. He told them that he was going to threw one last punch at the other guy (Who went by 'The Destroyer' but since John had already given that name to Sherlock he only called him by his real name, Markus Quincy), slip then pretend to be knocked out. But as he went to throw his punch Markus threw himself in the way and went limp. His doctor said that he would be fine, but would have a small concussion.**_  
_**

It was right about then that the door bell rang. Three rings, which meant it was someone he knew, they were anxious. As John got up to answer the door, it rang three more times.

_Ok, now they're just being annoying. Someone I know, anxious, being annoying on perhaps so I will get up. Either it's Sher...no, that means it's a kid. _

"Dodgy? What are you doing here?"

"Hi'ya Doc! Guess what? Mr. Alexander Flames is said to be going to the next Wrestling match!"

John's eyes widen with curiosity, "How'd you know that?"

Dodgy smirked, "Doc, I'm part of the homeless network, we can do almost anything."

"Really?" John said rising an eyebrow.

"No, I paid off Mr. Flames secretary, who hates him, and gave me the time, dates, and names of all Mr. Flames appointments."

"Do you think you could go give me and the dates and names of all Mr. Flames appointments?" John said as a huge smile spread across both his and Dodgy's face, "I think I can."

* * *

Once Dodgy left, John went back inside to grab his coat and call Lestrade. Just as was walking up the stairs he bumped into William who was on his way out.

"Ah William! I was just about to leave, got a led on _'The White Flame'_ case. Do you wanna come with?"

John's heart began to speed up, John still wasn't settle about the idea of a consent reminder of Sherlock living at 221. And the fact that he had come with him to the crime scene was still getting to him. He just wanted this to end,he wanted him to leave and never come back, to never see him again.

"Nuh, sorry, I'm gonna go meet my girlfriend. I promised to see her after I was settled."

"Oh ok then."

Back in his flat, John sat in his chair and wanted nothing more than to see Sherlock sitting in the one right across from him. Oh what he wouldn't give to hear Sherlock playing his violin again. Or to watch him in the kitchen performing an experiment. Anger began to arise inside of him, which he directed towards Alexander Flames, if it was the last thing he did, he would bring him down and in jail.


	8. Bring them out

Sherlock stood holding on a pole on the tube. He wore a green hoodie and a pair of saggy jeans. He was much paler now, paler than he had ever been before. He was also much thinner, unhealthy thin. His hair was dyed a gingery color and he wore green contact lenses.

Although he went by Caractacus Einson now, those who were working with him and his brother giving him information knew him as 'Cat'. He didn't look at anyone of anything, he stared out into nothing. That is what those you glanced at him saw, a young looking men staring off into space. What they did not know was that he was following someone on the tube. How any of the other passengers could knew that they were riding with a sniper? And who honestly would have guessed that along with a sniper they were riding with the world's only presumed dead consulting detective?

Once they stopped and the passengers began to pile out, Sebastian Moran slipped his way into the crowd. Sherlock tried hard to keep his eye on him and look as ordinary as possible at the same time. All Sherlock wanted to do was run up to Sebastian, jump him and do something to him which was very illegal. He came to a bus stop where Sebastian was when his phone beep.

**Where are you? Have you found him? -Mh**

**Bus stop outside from the tube. -SH**

**Don't lose him, if you do everything we have done so far will be in vain! -MH**

**Then why don't you quit texting me and leave me be so I can focus! -Sh**

Sherlock stuffed his phone back in the pocket of the hoodie. Honestly, how was he supposed to still in character with Mycroft texting him every 5 minutes! As he got on the bus, he sat in the very front and kept his head down. To anyone who saw him, he looked like depressed young adult who could very well do something stupid the next day. Sebastian sat in the very back, he was out of Sherlock's vision, but he knew he was there none the less.

"...Creeper..."

"...Emo..."

"...Freak..."

He could hear people whispering about him on the bus. Two high school girls sat towards the middle front, they were dressed in short shorts and one in a tube top and the other in belly shirt. _Dear God their so obvious! One has two boys friends, is an only child, her father is an alcoholic and beats her, her mother is dead and she is failing in most of her classes._

A shady smirk grew on Sherlock's face, deducing people was the closest thing to 'fun' he had since the he faked his death. No more cracking jokes with John, so more insulting Anderson, no more running about chasing killers in the wee hours of the morning.

He cast a careful glance to the window behind the girl as he read her text to one of her boyfriends.

**Ugh, theirs **_(there's) _**some creeper on the bus! He looks like he is going start a shoot up or something. cannot **_(cannot)_ **wait to get off!**

Sherlock took one look at the girl next to her as his smile grew.

_Is jealous of her friend, single, multiple brothers and sisters, has a small pet dog, and is starving herself because she is bullied at school. _

The bus finally came to a stop and Sebastian got off along with Sherlock and three others.

_Nurse, stay-at-home mom, was currently fired but hasn't told his family yet._

He followed Sebastian down the street until Sebastian stop to catch a cab. As Sherlock walked by everything seemed to move in slow motion as Sherlock perked up and listened to the address Sebastian gave the cabbie. It was the address to a five-star hotel.

_Hmmm...He must know or is planning on that I come return to London; he must be planning on taking me out. But how could he know that I'm still alive? And hasn't he killed anyone yet? (Not that I'm complaining). Oh, maybe he doesn't know I'm still alive. So this is a test than._

As Sherlock sat on a bench to wait for the next bus he grabbed a newspaper. Truth be told it was the same one that Kitty Riley worked for. Well, previously worked for, Mycroft took care of her. What he did he wasn't sure, but all he knew was that she was no longer living in London. Yes, Sherlock Holmes was back in London, but so was Sebastian Moran. This was a game changer, for Sebastian to come here must mean that he knows or suspects that Sherlock is still alive, so, that must mean that someone told him. Which brings Sherlock to a final question before the bus arrives, who was this new player and how did they know Sherlock was still alive?

* * *

It was late and Sherlock had already booked a room as far away from where Sebastian was stay while still being able to keep an eye on him. Today was day 5, which meant that it had been 5 days since he had eaten last. If he wanted to keep up his energy and still be able to stop Moran, he would need to eat something, and soon, for he was already feeling light headed. Sherlock order some take out from a local Chinese restaurant, it wasn't as good as the he and John use to go to, but all in all it didn't really matter to him, as long as he got energy to continue his pursue of Moriarty's web.

As Sherlock left the restaurant his phone went off.

**Meet me in the alley to your left. Don't worry, no one is watching. -D**

Sherlock looked up from his phone and saw by a bakery a couple blocks down was a darkened alley. Shoving his phone back in the pocket in his hoodie, he walked over towards the alley.

* * *

"Hell'o Mr. Holmes, nice to see you back in London."

Sherlock smiled, "And you Dodgy, but please, the name is Caractacus Einson."

"Ah, so you're this 'Cat' I kept hearing about. Now straight to business, may I ask what brings you back to London?" Dodgy said keeping a sly smirk on her face the entire time.

"How did you know I was here?"

"How do you think?"

Sherlock stared hard at Dodgy. Most of the people in the homeless network would do what they were told without a question. Dodgy was a only a teenager, a rebellious, sneaky and knew her way around.

"You were threatened."

"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch, continue."

Sherlock spoke as slowly walked towards her, "The day I faked my death, you were there, but not with the others, you did what I asked, filmed it on your phone, and someone found out. They threatened you and now you need help."

Dodgy sighed in defeat, "Sebastien Moran, apparently I was caught on a CCTV camera filming something. He threatened me, he doesn't know your alive, but his is suspicious. I didn't show him the video; I deleted the video right after I did what you asked. I told Moran that if he returned to London, if you were still alive, you would somehow find out and return yourself."

"What did he offer you?"

"1 million American dollars."

"And you accepted." It was a statement not a question. Sherlock smiled a Your-so-clever-I've-taught-you-well smiled.

"And you're telling me so I get him first before he gets me and you still get your money. Aren't you so clever. I must admit I'm impressing, how you'd do it without Mycroft finding out? I told him to keep a close eye on London for me. Looks like you've been doing a better job than the British government."

"I was planning on tell either of you two, but ever since Moran has been keeping a close eye on me. I was surprised I could get a chance to see you now, but once he got the news that he was last of Moriarty's web, he's been a bit...distracted."

"Dodgy, you've done enough to earn that million. Don't spend it all in one place." Sherlock said as turned and left. Now Sherlock knew he had to act fast, if Moran found out he was still alive than he would kill John the next chance he got. Dodgy did a good job on lowering Moran out for Sherlock, now all he had to do was wait for the right moment.

**It appears a certain Alexander Flames is meeting an antecedence of yours at a wrestling tournament. -MH**

**Sebastian Moran? -SH**

**Appears so; would you like me to get you a back stage ticket? -MH**

**It would help greatly. -SH**

**Pick them up at the front desk at the motel -MH**

**Thank you, and how was the root canal? -SH **

**Please focus on the task at hand Sherlock, remember it's you who wants to return 'home' as soon as possible. -MH**

Sherlock put his phone back in his pocket and walked to his motel. He was so close, just this last person and then he could go back home.

_Just a few more days, then everything will be over._


	9. Hiding in plain sight

Tonight was the night, John was going to sneak into the wrestling match and find and somehow get proof that Alexander Flame was '_The White Flame'_. It was all set up, Mr. Tomarus, the speaker, was going to announcement the '_The White Flame_' had told him to make, Mr. Howard was going to lose the match, and John was going be watch Alexander Flames the whole time. Lestrade, Donavon and few other men were waiting outside for the signal from John. As John walked past the concession stand, we saw there were two men working it.

They were both around the same age; one was a blonde, the other a black haired. They were both in their late twenties, one was heavier built than the other and one was paler than the other. But these two were very different, the blond, smaller and tanner one was a here because it was his part time job to help pay for college. The black haired, heavier build, paler one was an undercover cop from the Yard here because he was back up in case anything went wrong.

From his seat in the he could a private room with a glass window looking down into the arena. The undercover cop, whose name was Patrick, had found out that that was the room reserved for Mr. Flames.

As John sat he began to shake his leg nervously, he looked up and smiled as William Andrews sat next to him.

"Ready?" William asked him, who sounded equally nervous, perhaps even more.

"As ready as I'll ever be." John replied, now all that was left was to wait.

* * *

With his hair still dyed and still wearing the colored contact lenses, Sherlock Holmes a sat opposite from the room that Mr. Flames and Mr. Moran would be. Little did he know that his close and only friend John Watson as sitting right underneath the room in the seating area in the arena.

Sherlock was wearing a pair of dark black jeans, a grey t-shirt and a dark green hoodie. He kept the hood on to hide the fact that he was also wearing an ear piece that looked much like a Bluetooth.

"Remember Sherlock, you're in public, if you do anything that might create a scene and everything will be in vain."

"You don't have to keep reminding me!"

"Don't speak! People will look at you!"

* * *

Mycroft sat impatiently in his office, there was still a good 20 minutes still the match started. Mycroft had been so wrapped up with Sherlock and work and keeping tabs on everyone that he hadn't been updating himself on the case that John was on. If he had he would have sent one of his men to the match instead of Sherlock. For if Moran saw both his and Sherlock together in the same arena, one of them would surely die.

Mycroft typed on his computer and pulled up the live footage on the CCTV camera's in the arena. One by one he began to scan the area.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Sherlock Holmes get out of there now! Go outside and wait for my car to come and pick you up!"

He tarred away from his phone and yelled for his PA,

"GET LESTRADE ON THE PHONE NOW!"

He put his phone back up to his ear just in time to heat Sherlock response.

"Mycroft have you gone mad! I'm not leaving till I've got Moran!"

"Sherlock listen, John Watson in among the people in the crowd...and he seems to be sitting next to someone who looks exactly like you! Just go get in the backseat of the car and wait till I tell you so. I'm getting Lestrade on the other line and getting both John and the other man out now. So if you will cooperate I promise you, we will get Moran!"

Sherlock didn't move, instead he scanned over the crowd and his eyes stopped where John was sitting next to a men who look almost exactly like him! Sherlock didn't know the full details about the case John was on, but for him to go to such extremes must have meant it was things were very bad.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft's voice boomed over piece. Sherlock went to go stand up, but...

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS! HEEEEERRRRREEEESSSS KKKIIILLLEEERRR!" the announcer said over the speakers.

"Sorry Mycroft, too late." Sherlock said quietly into the earpiece. He looked up, and sure enough he saw Alexander Flames and Sebastian Moran shaking hands than taking their seats.

* * *

John and William nearly jumped out of their seats when Mr. Tomarus's voice boomed over the unnecessarily loud speakers. This was it, no turning back.

Sherlock watched as John whispered something into the other-Sherlock's ear. This one time and this one time only Sherlock would admit it, he was jealous.

John was on case, from the looks of it a very exciting case, with someone else and from the way John was getting up and pushing through the crowds, something was about to happen.

Sherlock got up and headed towards the exit. No doubt that John was on his way to the room where Alexander was, and incontinently, the same room Sebastian Moran just happens to be in as well.

Sherlock knew that the only way for them to get out of this with everyone safe was to get to the room first and keep John out. What if Flames had reviled that John and 'Sherlock' were already on his case? Everything seemed to be slowly coming apart. His only opinion was to get to the room first.

* * *

William sat in his in the arena and awaited his cue. John was to go up the door give a quick signal, than William was to wait 4 minutes than follow John up to the room. John had given him the signal and William had been waiting 2 minutes. His leg was shaking and he began to tap his fingers on his knee. He had never been more nervous in his entire life.

William was new to the theater world. He had been in small plays all during school; he was always the star in every play he had been in up till he went to the University. He started out small but slowly made his way to being the star in the show they did his last year. He had gotten a job in America once him and his wife were settled and had been in a couple shows.

But now things were different, if he failed this we wouldn't get a bad grade, or lose his job or anything. No, the consequences were much worse. People could die, even himself, if he failed.

The 4 minutes were up.

As he rose out of his seat, he looked up, Alexander was talking with someone and it seemed things weren't going as planned. The two looked like they were nearly yelling at each other. They both relaxed in their and began to talking in a more business matter, but it was obvious that whatever it was they were arguing about was still lingering in the air.

When he finally reached the spot where he was suppose to meet John, he heard a someone gasp. As he peered his head around the corner, his eyes first went on John. John was nearly trembling, not out of fear, but as if he was doing all he could to contain himself. He then looked at the man in front of John.

Oh.


	10. It Was All One Big Blur

It was one big blur.

As John Watson came round the corner at the same time Sherlock Holmes was going around the other corner of the wall to the hall that leads to the door to the room where Sebastian Moran and Alexander Flames were meeting.

They were so close, if they had just been a second fast, John Watson would have seen his friend, his best friend was still alive.

But fate had other plans, just as they both were about to round the corner Alexander Flames opened the door right in front of John Watson's face.

John froze like a deer caught in a car's headlights. He stopped himself just in time before slamming into the door, and slowly began backing away from the door.

William Andrews was just about to round the corner as well when he saw the situation. He grabbed John from behind his collar and pulled him back without making a sound.

* * *

It was all a big blur.

As Sherlock was about to come around the corner the room slammed opened blocking his view and would be reunion.

As the door flew open he backed back behind the corner and watched as Sebastian Moran and Alexander Moran excited the room.

"Once Mr. Tomarus gives the announcement that will give my men the signal. My men will proceed and do as you have asked. But, I should warn you Mr. Moran, if you don't keep up your end of the deal there will be...consequences."

Said a gruff voice which they figured belonged to Mr. Flames.

"I wouldn't worry about me, you should watch out for yourself. I'd keep away from the Yard if I were you. Trying to play them out like that will only draw their attention in areas we don't want noticed. Honestly, you're just as obsessed as my last boss, not that you're anything like him."

This seemed to offend Mr. Flames. To most in the criminal world, it was no secret who Moran worked for.

"Obsessed with what? And what do mean 'not anything like him'. Who you once worked for is the world's worst kept secret. So don't try and play me like that."

Sebastian rolled him eyes.

"With Sherlock Holmes, he's dead, everyone knows that. There's no way he could have survived that drop. And if he did...I'll kill him. You're no criminal mastermind Flames, don't get to prideful, that will be your biggest mistake. One that will cost you everything if anyone catches one."

With that said Moran began to walk off down the hall towards the way Sherlock would have come from.

* * *

When Sherlock first realized they were coming out from the room he darted back down the hallway he came from and away from the door and even further away from John. He found the car Mycroft had spoken of and got into the back seat.

"What happened?" Mycroft boomed into the ear piece, "You were out my view for about 10 5 minutes. Sherlock Holmes you'd had been not messed up."

"They almost saw me. They didn't, but it was close. They came out of the room sooner than expected, looked like they came to an agreement on whatever they were discussing rather quickly."

I deep, heavy, stress with sigh was heard on the other end. They both knew that now they had to act fast, it was only a matter of time before Moran found out Sherlock was still alive and Mycroft couldn't keep funding Sherlock forever. This had to end and it they both it was going to very soon.

* * *

"I'll kill him!"

John Watson and William Andrews stood behind their corner listen to Mr. Flames and another man addressed as "Moran". John was sure he had heard that name before.

But that one line sent shivers down his spine. Why did this Moran hate Sherlock so much? And who did he previously work for? His words sounded sure that Sherlock was dead, but there was doubt in his voice.

It was like a glimmer of light in a dark cave for John. But he soon put it out, for if it was one thing John hated, it was false hope.

As John listened he heard Mr. Moran leave and Flames go back into the room.

* * *

"Now's are chance!" William whispered to John.

"First we need to find evidence!" John whispered back.

When the coast was clear John and William went over to door.

The door to the room had a small plastic window that could fit at least one head. John peered into the window and saw Alexander sitting in a chair watching the match. John had hoped they would been able to gather soon evidence before Mr. Tomarus made the announcement, but in less than 10 minutes the announcement would be made, he had until than to find something that could prove Mr. Flames was '_The White Flame_'.

As placed his ear up against the door, he heard Mr. Flames phone got off.

"Hello? Yes Debbie. What? No. Just want sure they're ready when they get the signal. No you listen to me! I'm up to neck with the Scotland Yard, they already suspect me and it's only a matter of time before they caught on and find something to pin on me! Yeah, well you should have said that BEFORE we killed the first guy!"

With that he hung up and went back to watching the match.

John gave a smirk of a smile and looked down in his at the recorder. He turned and nodded to William and began to walk back the way they came.

"Alright Lestrade," John said into an ear piece, "I just got him admitting he was the killer!"

"Ok Sher- William, let's get out of here before we're caught!"

The two began to speed walk away from the door and were almost out of the building when two heavy hands grabbed both William and John's shoulders.

"What do we have here? Scum from the Yard?"

"Thank you Reggie, that will be enough." Said a dreadfully familiar voice.

Both William and John turned their necks the best they could to turn and see who it was, although just by his voice they already knew who it was. "I'm sorry sir, but I think you've mistaken us from someone us. We were just here to watch the match, but my friend got a call that his sister is in the hospital, and I'm his ride."

Alexander Flames gave an amuse laugh. "If it were not for the fact that I just saw and heard you two running away from my door, I would believe you. I'm sorry; I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Alexander Flames, this is Reggie, my right hand man and my representative."

"Nice to meet you both I'm sure!" John said struggling to get out of Reggie's grip, "Now if you don't mind, do you think you could have Reggie here unhand us?"

"Of course. But first," Reggie said as he began to search John's pockets. "Ah! Here we are!" He said taking out the recorder.

"That's not yours and If you don't give that back I'm going to have to call the-"

But before John could finish his sentence Alexander took the recorder handed it to Reggie who snapped it in half.

"Oops! Sorry about that." He said handing it back to John, who he then grabbed by the collar and brought up close to his face.

"If you utter but one word about this to the Scotland Yard of any authority of any kind, I will personally make sure you will never be able to utter another word again!"


	11. One Word, One Text, One Champion

John didn't have to tell the Yard anything; Patrick from the concession stand saw and heard everything.

"Alright break it up! I suggest you go back to the match unless you would like to deal with security!"

Reggie cringed and dropped both John and William.

Alexander gave a smirk of a smile, "Mr. Watson, Mr. Holmes, until we met again!"

* * *

Alexander Flames went back to his room and phoned Moran.

"Hello Sebastian,"

"Flames? I told you not to call unless it important. So unless some big development happened within the last-"

"He's alive."

Sebastian was silent for about 30 seconds as he let this information sink in.

"What do you mean?"

"I just saw him; he was here with his pet, Watson. Their close, they had a recorder with them. It's destroyed, but there could be more of them from the Yard. I suggest we-"

"No."

Both men went silent; Sebastian because he was trying to control his anger, Alexander because no one had ever dared to deny him something. "What do you mean?" Flames said nearly growling. "If he is as close as you say, than I'm sorry, but our partnership must be...terminated."

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!?" Flames was now yelling into his phone, "We have been through too much for you to back out now! We are minutes away from going worldwide AND YOU WANT TO BACK OUT NOW!"

"One word. One word and I'll end everythi-"

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! You listen here Sebastian Moran, and you listen well. If your men don't come through, if you don't hold up your end of the deal, I will personally make your life a living hell until you beg for me to kill you! If you so much as think that-"

"Sorry Flames, It's over."

The line went dead and Alexander Flames was left standing there with a shocked look stuck on his face. No one had ever told him no, no one denied him anything, and this was no exception to Sebastian Moran. It wasn't until now when Flames realized just how little he actually influenced their scheme. Moran held all the hostages, Moran did all the killings, Moran planned all the meets, who was their next target, how, where and when everything was to take place. One word, which was all he needed to shut down everything.

* * *

Mr. Tomarus shifted nervously in his chair watching the match. They had taken a small break, and he was only minutes away from the time when he was supposed to make the announcement. His role was simple, wait for signal to know that they had their man and him and his family would be safe. But if the signal never came, he was supposed to make the announcement and watch and wait.

3 Minutes until the break was over and he was to make the announcement.

"Hey James, you look a little pale, why don't you go get some coffee or something?" Said Isaac, his partner.

"Nah, just tired it's all. I think after this match I'm going take a looong vacation. The Bahamas sound real good right now."

"Sounds good anytime if you ask me." Isaac said offering a smile, "You've working hard, it's about time you had a holiday!"

2 more minutes.

James whole body was shaking. All that could run through his head was his beautiful wife and his beloved daughter. If they died he would never be able to live with himself. As soon as this was over, and after his son's funeral and everything was settled, he was planning on taking his wife and daughter out of the country for a while.

"Look James," Isaac said, his voice filled his sympathy, "I heard about your son...And-and I want you to know that I'm truly sorry. No father should ever have to bury their child. I really think getting away will be a good thing for both you, Jenn and Stacy. And if you need anything, and I mean anything, you just tell me."

James gave a sad yet thankful smile, "Thanks Isaac, this has been a hard on-"

James was cut off by the beeping of his cell phone.

_Do NOT make the announcement, your wife and daughter along with Mr. Howard's wife will all be found back in their homes. If you do make the announcement they will be kill. _

"James? You alright?"

James looked up with joy willed tears nearly spilling down his face. There was a sigh that began to flash and the door behind them opened and a man poked his head in.

"We're back in 30 seconds." And left just as soon as he came.

In a flash James went through his phone and forward the message to John and Lestrade.

"And we're back! Now I don't know about you James, but I think the King has finally met his match!"

"I wouldn't place my money done just yet! I have a feel the King is going make a comeback!"

As James looked down into the ring he saw Mr. Howard's face. He hadn't been told all the details, but he was told that both their families had been at risk. As he looked down, he saw the King looked refreshed and seen to have more strength. As the bell rang The King flew himself towards his opponent and tackled him to the ground and pinned him.

His opponent was called 'Screamer' he was nowhere near as strong as Mr. Howard and was an amateur; it felt like an insult that was suppose to lose against him. But he had gotten the word last minute that the plan was off and he could beat the crap out his opponent if he wanted, his wife was safe.

* * *

After the match Lestrade, John and William met up with James Tomarus.

"Unfortunately we can't trace it because it was a text. But we can go to the phone company take a look at your phone history and we might be able to find something. But it's a long shot, the number was blocked so there might be nothing."

Patrick had told Lestrade about the John and William meeting Alexander Flames in the lobby. Lestrade was having the film from the security camera's set over and was going to watch them to get a look at Reggie and see he has any criminal records.

"Well, I suppose we've done all we can here. You guys are free to go whenever." Lestrade said looking over some paper work he was handed by one of the staff at the arena.

"Thank Greg, It's been a long day, I think I'll be turning in early today." John said with a yawn.

"Well thanks for all your help; you said the other man's name was Moran, right?"

"Yep, that's right, well see you around. Call me if you find anything!" With that both John and William turned and began to exit the building.

"I'm taking a cab back to Baker Street, wanna come along? It's on me."

As soon as those words left John's mouth he regretted them. He didn't want to sit in a cab during a case with a Sherlock-look-s-like. If anything, he wanted to be as far and away from him as possible. It wasn't that he didn't like William; in fact, he was a rather agreeable man. He always tried to avoid an argument, always seemed to put other people's feels first and tried hard not to be a burden. It was so unlike the real Sherlock. Part of John wanted to be around William, he told himself that he was over Sherlock, that he had moved on. But deep down, something buried deep within his soul, something cracked, a shattered, and cried, yelled, scream, ripped, kicked, punched, hit, something was in anguish whenever he saw William.

"Nah thanks, my girlfriend got a day off from work and so we planned to have a nice quiet night in, ya know?"

No, John so wanted to say, no he didn't know. A 'Night in' to him meant him and Sherlock sitting at home, with John updating his blog, drinking tea or reading a book while Sherlock complained about being board or would sit and yell at the Tv while they watched crap telly.

"Ya I guess. Well see you around than!"

* * *

"Sherlock that was close, too close."

"Piss off Mycroft! Apparently Moran has 'terminated' his partnership with Flames. You should be grateful I found out that much! Now tell what Moran's next step is so I can leave! And don't tell me you don't know or to 'deduce it myself', just tell me so we can get on with it!"

Mycroft owned him this much. He had betrayed his brother and had brought pain to the few people who actually cared what happened to Sherlock. He had given away Sherlock's live to a man he KNEW only goal was to completely destroy Sherlock's life and eventually kill him.

Mycroft sighed and handed Sherlock the files. "From what my men have gathered Moran's business with Flames was to get more men. Flames was going to supply Moran with these men, but with a price. What it is, or rather was, we don't know yet. What we do know is that Flames didn't trust Moran, so he go the Scotland Yard's attention for...insurance so to speak, so that if Moran went back on his deal then Flames would turn him over. Apparently Moran found out about this and requested a meeting with Moran. I'm guessing they came to a quick agreement not to 'pull any triggers'.

Sherlock was just barely listening as he read over the files. But although he wasn't listening, he was storing it to his hard drive so he could remember it later, which is if Mycroft told him anything useful.

"But once Flames called him back and told him you were on the case and were there, he panicked and ended his deal with Flames. So, assuming he is still going after his original cause, he will most likely be trying to either find men to join him, or find someone who cans supply him with these men."

Sherlock stood up without looking away from the files, "He is probably doing both. He doesn't have any spare time; he thinks I've almost caught him, which I have. Thank you Mycroft, you've _actually _been useful this time!"


	12. A Time for Resting

Another motel, another disguise, anther day alone with only a laptop and files to keep him company. Sherlock closed his eyes, laid back on the bed and put his hands together as if he were praying and began to think.

Moran knows (or at suspects) that I'm after him. But he thinks I'm working with John and the Yard.

He needs men. He knows he cannot do this one his own and needs to build up his own web. He was going to somehow pay for men, but that plan was ruined and now he needs to look else where.

He has two opinions, A) Go around finding his own men. This would be beneficial to him because they would be men who would want to work for him. Most likely he would go to people who are desperate, hungry and willing to do anything at any cost. Some would be looking for payment, they would be poor and/or in debt and need to take care of their families. Some would be homeless and depressed, looking for some 'purpose' in life. Others...(And this made Sherlock shutter) would be men from the army. Maybe wounded in battle, or discharged dishonorably, but all looking for another battle to fight. B) He would go to another supplier. He is running out of time and does have any to spare trying to make people 'trust' him and/or manipulate them. He has money so he can pay for them. He also has military skills so he can do them any 'favors' that consists of getting rid of someone.

"My guess is that he is doing both. He may or may not already have another supplier on list. But while he is looking he will also be ready to manipulate anyone who comes across his path. What do you think John?"

Silence.

Sherlock looked around and realized that he was not in 221B. No, he was in some cheap motel room which, by going by the state of the bathroom and smudge on the mirror was last used by some young couple who had snuck out to make love behind either their parents...no, the girlfriend had another boyfriend whom she was cheating on because she found out he was cheating on her with her sister. But going by the imprints on the floor, even though she knows her boyfriend cheated first, she still feels guilty.

Sherlock closed his eyes again. Now, think, how many and what are the names of large company with owners who have had criminal activity in the past and/or with people at their disposal (such as escort companies and companies who are secretly drug dealers). And also the names of the places holding the closest soup kitchens and homeless shelters and...

Sherlock exhausted, he hadn't eaten in god knows how long and had been without sleep for an even long amount of time. With his still closed and him deep within his mind palace, his hand slowly began to slid away to his sides as he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

John sat in the living room of 221B sighing as he debated if he really wanted to drink the cup of tea he had just poured, it was his 5'Th one after all. John needed a distraction from the case, more specially, from Sherlock.

He tried watching something on the telly, but he either got board of it, predicted the ending or it somehow reminded him of Sherlock.

In frustration, he closed his eyes and threw his head back and gave out a loud groan. As he opened his eyes he was greeted by a bright yellow spray painted smiley face with bullet holes tracing its eyes and mouth.

It mocked him.

John was ready about to throw his cup clear across the room at the face. No he told himself, it would only break the cup, stain the walls and make Mrs. Hudson fuss over him. No, in the end he would only cause more of a mess to clean up.

John closed his eyes as he thought upon the case.

From the information he had gotten from Dodgy and the rest of the homeless network they had found that Flames meeting with 'Moran' was scheduled last minute and he had to get the tickets last minute, which wasn't a probably for him because apparently he knew the manager who ran the arena (more like he blackmailed him). When they first met they were fighting about something. Something must have gone wrong in their plan. Or perhaps one of them made a move without consulting the other? Either way they came into an agreement rather first, which meant that both of them were anxious to either get the plans under way...No, they both disliked each other. For some reason they both needed each other for something and the only way things could go their way was for both of them to come into an agreement.

But something must have happened, something happened that cause them to change their plans in a matter of seconds. Maybe one of them got another offer? Did one of them continued with their plans to act without consulting the other? But were they still working together? Was this only a small set back in a giant scheme? Or did they finally have enough of each other and end the partnership?

John's head began to pang and his eyes started to get heavy. He had no idea how Sherlock did it, go so long without sleeping or eating. Sure it was one thing to go sometime without eating. Like when you got sick and couldn't keep any food down, the body would begin to feed off the fat stored away on your body. But to go without sleep? That he couldn't understand, sleep was something the body controlled. You could try and fight it, but the body always seems to win eventually.

And that was how Mrs. Hudson found him when she came home from her visit with her sister. Fallen asleep in his chair with a cup of tea gone cold in his lap. She smiled fondly and poured the cup out and brought a blanket over and tucked it around him snugly.

She quietly tip-toed back down to her flat and decided to get some rest, because in the morning there would sure to be more excitement and buzzing about the case. But if she were honest with herself, the only thing she would were two things, 1) that William did look so much like Sherlock. Because if it were not for the fact, and that fact alone, than she would have wanted to ask William about becoming a permanent resident in 221C. 2) Sherlock would be here, he would be here to take care of John made he got food in him and got some rest.

And that was how Mrs. Hudson fell asleep, with her head full of happy memories of her boys.

* * *

Lestrade collapsed onto his bed. His head ached; he had a crick in his back and a stiff neck. He had been up to his neck in paper work and had just gotten into an unnecessary fight with his wife who decided to spend the night at her friend's house. Lestrade had gotten his shoes, socks and coat, but failed to remove the rest before his mind decided it had had enough and he fell back onto of his bed. And although he would wake to find his clothes wrinkled and drool pooling out of his mouth, he would wake up tomorrow well rested and ready to take on whatever the day would bring him.

* * *

Mycroft had just told 'Anthea' to go home and get some rest after she brought him some medicine for his head. They had been so close to getting Sebastian Moran, but they had also been close to revealing everything and getting people killed. He hoped Sherlock somehow would figure something out. Normally when he was involved (the few times he was) with his brothers work, Mycroft would have figured most of it out and given Sherlock the leg work. But now it seemed Sherlock was doing both parts.

Mycroft was helping all he could, he was able to get information for his brother, get him rooms and means of travel and money for necessaries, but he still felt that there was more he could do. He didn't dwell long on the thought. Caring wasn't an advantage, yet here he was, helping his little brother out so he could get back to the people who actually cared about him.

Mycroft swallowed the pills with some water and called over his secretary to put away any files or paper work that was felt out on his desk and headed home, or rather to his house.

Mycroft Holmes hadn't had a homes in what seemed like years. He lost his when his brother turned to drugs and began to push him away and fight any help that Mycroft tried to give him. It was then, when Sherlock nearly destroyed himself that Mycroft decided that caring was not an advantage. He tried caring about his little brother, but every time he did Sherlock only pushed him away more and more. When Mycroft had gotten the call that Sherlock had overdosed, that did it.

He couldn't take it anymore. He would try and help Sherlock out of his addiction, but that was it. After that Mycroft would from that moment on do everything so that he would gain. First he tried to fill the gap in his Sherlock had left with his job. It became is goal to try and achieve the highest position. And when he finally got to the top, he found he was empty again. Next came money, he decided that he would always get what he wanted. If saw something in a shop or in magazine that he wanted, he would always have the money for it right at his fingertips.

But when one day he saw two young boys down at a pond in a park fishing together, laughing, bonding, the emptiness returned, this time worse than ever before. He didn't want love, no, that was what caused him to feel empty. So he turned to the one thing that would never let him down and would be there for him.

Food.

* * *

William Andrew was walking home. His 'night in' didn't turned out as he as he had hoped. It was always the same, he would leave with hope shining in his heart that this time would be different, this time when he got there he would find out he was accepted and wanted. But it always ended the same way, he would get into a fight and he would throw out and wouldn't hear anything back till one day when he would be asked to come over that night. But the cycle always seem to continue no matter what he did.

"Get in a fight mate?" said a smooth voice from a shadow in a darkened alley.

"Yeah, but what's it to you? What I do with my life is no of your business!" He yelled about to storm back home.

"It is if your life has to do with my business."

"What?" William stopped dead in his tracks.

"Your desperate." said the voice.

William nodded.

"You need the money," the voice continued.

William nodded again.

"It won't last long. And your just barely getting by now."

William nodded again as he stepped towards the alley.

"You can't depend on them forever, and tonight you know was the last night..._there_..."

"And? What's this got to do with you!?"

A smile grew upon the face the voice belonged too.

"I can help; I can..._give you a purpose._"


	13. Nothing or Everything

John had just gotten home from work and was about to make himself a cup of tea. It had been a stressful day, 3 patients with broken bones, and 2 who need a blood transplant and a hand full of over protective mother whose child caught the flu. Oh, and not to mention the all screaming kids who had to get shoots.

Just as he was getting the kettle out and was going to fill it with water, the doorbell rang.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" John shouted as he climbed down the stairs.

The man behind the door was rather young, mid twenties-early thirties. He had shagging brown hair which was hidden under a beanie, he wore a pair of old faded jeans and a orange T-shirt which was cover by a black jacket. Although you couldn't saw he looked pale, he was very light colored skinned. On his hands was a pair of fingerless gloves.

"Dr. Watson is it?"

John had fairly good memory of pass clients, people whom he talked with for cases, patients, neighbors, co-works and regular people who would pass by 221B Baker Street on regular daily routes. But John was certain he didn't know who this man was.

"Please, it's John. Can I help you with something?"

"The names Roger, I uh...sorry, I didn't know where you lived, if I had I would have come soon...But...Do you think I could talk with you inside? I'm a friend of Dodgy's by the way."

Ah, another person from the homeless center, ever since Sherlock's...death...John had seen people from the network more and more.

_Their probably just watching over cause it's the least they could do for Sherlock, _John would normally tell himself. Little did he know that Sherlock had left his network specific instructions.

"Umm...Sure, please come in."

"Thanks, I have private information regarding the case," Roger said in a hushed tone. "I had to go to Dodgy to find out where you lived, because normally, someone would have just come to me or I would tell to text the information to Sherlock."

John realized how different this was going to be for all of them. John did have any of their numbers, and as far as he knew they didn't have his. But then again, he didn't even think they HAD cell phones.

Once inside John flat Roger took a seat on the couch and John in his chair.

"I had to talk with you, specifically, Dr. Watson. Today, one of your patients, she had short blonde hair that goes to about here." Roger said bring his hand right above his shoulder. "Her name is Darla I believe, I've seen her down at the soup kitchen a couple times."

John thought for a moment. Yes Darla, the name sounded familiar, wasn't she one of the ones who needed a blood transplant? Yes, that's right; she had Blood Type O, very rare.

"Yes, Darla Orstad. She was my 2:30."

"Well, there's this place some of my mates go to, it's called "The Queen's Chambers", some homeless folk go down and get drunk and gamble. A lot of times when companies need workers who will work for cheap, they'll come down and hire people from there. Well recently me and my mate went down to get a pint when we saw Darla talken to some bloke known as 'Moran', some of guys down there with a criminal past heard of him."

"You think Moran is enlisting homeless people?"

"Not just homeless people come down their Doc. Ya' see, Their drinks and such are pretty cheap, so homeless people, people who own a lot of debts, and such can be usually found there."

John thought for a moment, _so it was men Moran needed, people who are desperate for work and won't question him about it._

John looked back up at Roger, "There's something else you're not telling me."

John could see it written all over Roger's face. He looked like a guilty child who had just broken their mother's favorite vase. He was anxious and he seemed unable to keep still.

"Umm...If you don't mind me asking...That Andrews bloke, is he in right now?"

"William? No, he went out to see his girlfriend, I saw him this morning before I left for work. He said they got into a fight and he wanted to make it up to her."

"Well...Last night, I saw him...Talken with Darla and Moran."

John gave a reassuring smile, "He probably saw them and is investigating."

Roger raised one of his eyebrows and crossed his arms, clearly not buying John's story. "If he were, why did he tell you? Or Lestrade?"

John didn't even want to think about William betraying him. Could you imagine if the papers found out? First they said the real Sherlock betrayed them, and now his look-a-like! People would get suspicious. But that's not important right now. The real question was, why would William be talking with Moran? And at a cheap bar? Yes William didn't have a lot of money, but was he THAT desperate? Was this entire detective work too much for him and he was planning on leaving them?

"Thank you Roger, you've been most helpful!"

"Anytime!"

As Roger went to pull back from shaking John's hand he found John had slipped him a 20 and a coupon to a local bar that was much nicer then 'The Queen's Chambers".

Roger gave a smile, a quick nod and left before anyone else could see him.

* * *

"Lestrade?" John said once he was sure he was alone.

"John?"

"Hey, yeah it's me. Listen, one of Sherlock's friends from the homeless network just stopped by with some information, do ya got a moment for me to come down?"

"What? Oh yeah sure, come down as soon as ya came."

"Thanks see you in a few minutes."

John hung up and grabbed him coat.

As John went to take his first step towards the door his leg gave out on him and he was able to caught himself by catching onto the armrest of Sherlock's chair.

John pulled himself up and sat in the chair. As he rubbed his leg he shook his head quietly repeating over and over "no, no, no, no."

He had been so good, sure at first he had cried, but he had handled Sherlock's death fairly well. He was a soldier and he was British, he carried on. He followed his orders to every detail and never rested till his mission was complete. He knew Sherlock hated it whenever someone got sentimental, so he tried his best to carry on in life only stopping to mourn Sherlock as few times as possible.

But now everything seems to be falling apart. All that carrying on, pushing away all the feels off sadness, anguish and his fear of being alone all seem to be crashing down on him all at once.

His limp had returned.

This was the one thing he feared the most. It meant he was now weak; it meant there was something wrong with him. There was a defect, something that caused him to be not as useful and more of a burden.

He stood, straight and tall, and limped as carefully as he could to find his old cane. When he did fins it, the sight of it mocked him, he felt tearing beginning to form behind his eye. But no, tears meant weakness, because of his limp he already looked like a weak, pathetic, useless being, he was not going to look more so.

Taking his cane in one hand he went down the stairs as carefully as possible.

Mrs. Hudson door was wide open when she heard John coming down the steps. She stopped as she passed by on her way to her kitchen and opened her mouth about say something but stopped before any words could leave her mouth when she saw the cane.

John hadn't seen Mrs. Hudson stopped, for if he had he would have seen her face instantly fall and give the more pitiful, sympathetic face she could muster while still trying to keep her face straight.

* * *

John called a cab and once he was seated inside it he leaned back against the seat and began rubbed his leg without even realizing it.

How could he let this happen? Would he still be able help on the case? or would he become a burden upon Lestrade, William, and the rest of the team? This wasn't fair, this wasn't supposed to happen. He was suppose to be fine, finish the case, send William packing and get back to his normal life.

That's when another thought struck his kind. Would his tremors come back as well? If so, would he still be able to work at the hospital? How would he able to pay rent? Mrs. Hudson already had given him and Sherlock a special deal and gotten the flat pretty cheap. And after Sherlock was gone Mrs Hudson had been as kind after to lower the cost as much as she could.

John took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. For all he knew the limp could be gone by the time the was over and everything would go on the it had been before. Nothing had to change. It could be just be coming back because of the whole William thing. It could be nothing.

But then again, it could be everything.


	14. Texts and Emails

Greg Lestrade shook his head as John told him the news about William. "Now it could be nothing, I mean, Sherlock would do that as well, running out to question someone without telling anyone."

"Yeah but John, this is William we're talking about. He's not Sherlock, he got nervous just questions someone he we _knew_ was innocent. Don't you think he'd say something if he found something?"

"I don't know, maybe he felt he was useless and wanted to do something useful."

Greg sighed; so far they hadn't heard anything about from '_The White Flame_' and Alexander Flames was doing a good job at staying under the radar. So far the only information they had on Moron that he was discharged dishonorably. All past information about his life before the military was completely gone and it seemed no one knew anything about what happened to him after he was discharged.

"Look," John said taking a seat in front of Lestrade's desk. "I speak with him next time I see him, I don't know how I'm going to get around to the topic, but I'll make sure not to ask him directly." As John said this he began to rub his thigh subconsciously. Lestrade took one quick glance over and caught him rubbing, but made sure not to say anything to John about it.

"Well, I suppose that's all we can ask of you. I'll tell my men to keep an eye out for him, but not to come up to him directly. You should go home and get some rest. Oh yes, and I'll also look into this 'Darla' person."

"Thank Greg, yeah you're probably right, I am a bit tired."

* * *

When John got home he made a cup of tea, ordered a pizza and plopped on the couch and spent the rest of the night watching Bond movies.

It was starting to get late and John was thinking of starting to get ready for bed when he heard the downstairs door open.

_Greg always knocks twice before he comes in and has heavy footsteps. Mrs. Hudson is already in bed and she has a bad habit of swing the door when she opens it making it give a loud cricking noise and her foot steps and more light footed. William not home yet, normally opens the door like he owns the place, (unless he didn't want anyone to know he's home) has medium footsteps: matches the ones waking right now. And is heading toward 221C_

_Conclusion: William is back but either doesn't want anyone to know he's home or doesn't want to walk anyone. He would have seen the light from the Telly, so there's a possibility that he knows I'm awake. Or he might think I fell asleep with the Telly on. _

_2 Conclusion: There is a 67% chance William doesn't want anyone to know he's home, and a 33% chance he doesn't want to wake anyone._

John shook his head; he seriously needed to stop doing that. Although he was proud of his deducing skills, he knew that Sherlock would have been able to tell the person's height, how much they weighted, male or female, and want kind of mood they were in! John was good, but Sherlock would always be the best. And if anyone said otherwise John would give them a smack, deduce all he could about them and then give them a piece of his mind about how great Sherlock was and pathetic they were.

John got up and made his way to the door, he quietly went down the stairs and caught William just as he was about to enter his flat.

"Umm, hey William, I haven't seen you around lately."

William whirled around startled by John and put his hand to his chest. "Ahhhg! Oh, it's just you John, I thought everyone was asleep already. Uh, yeah, my girlfriend... I've been trying to spend as much time as I can with her, you know how girls are after a fight, they wanna keep 'ya around 24/7!"

_No, no I don't actually (which I can thank Sherlock for that!)_

"Oh do I! Well, I know it's kinda late, but I was wondering what kind of bars you go to? See, since we haven't heard anything about Flames or Moron in awhile, I was thinking that maybe we could all go down to a pub and take a nice break from all the craziness! Ya know?"

William was silent for a moment, he was either thinking reeeeally hard about an answer to John's question, or was considering tell John something he knew. For William, this was a moment of decision; he could either continue working with John, Lestrade and the rest of the Yard, or working with Moron against them. And of course, like most idiots, he chose the highest bidder.

"Ya know, I don't really drink at pubs. I've tried a few different ones, but never really found any that I particularly liked."

"Oh? Which ones?"

William froze, caught in his lie, he tried to recall a few he passed by, but none came to mind. Then he remembered a few he'd hear someone at the Yard mention.

"Umm...I think one of them was called "Gibb's Place" I've only been there once, it was nice, but that was when I first moved to London and got completely drunk that night. So I guess I can't really give an honest opinion on the place!"

John gave a fake laugh, "Well, night. Maybe Greg knows one, I know him and a few of the officers down at the Yard go out every few weeks for a pint."

"Yeah, well night!" William almost got away with his sneaky little lie, had it not been for the fact that he nearly ran into his flat and slammed and locked the door. Oh, and there was also the fact that it had been John who had mentioned about "Gibb's place" back at the Yard.

* * *

John lay awake lying on his bed; this whole William matter was unsettling. First and most obvious reason is because the man is a walking reminder that John's best friend is dead! Second, because there is a slight (more like 85% chance) that William is working for Moron. And if he isn't working for Moron, John is going to feel like a paranoid freak. No, wait, not freak, scratch that!

John still found himself trying to forget anything that reminded him of Sherlock.

_Why me? Why did this have to happen? I was starting to move on, and than that 'Flames' had to ruin everything! It's not fair! I wish...I wish...I wished I'd never met- No! no matter what happens, Sherlock will always be one of the best things that had ever happened to me._

Great, John went from Paranoid to desperate sounding in less than three minutes! That had to be some kind of record. John was about to let himself fall into the peaceful darkness of sleep when his phone went off.

**What have you learned about William Andrews? -MH**

_Oh so NOW he wants to get involved! Thanks a lot Mycroft Bloody Holmes!_

* * *

In a private office somewhere in London, Mycroft Holmes was doing his nightly check of everyone he was suppose to be personally keeping an eye on. Besides those who had been used as targets against Sherlock, Mycroft had other people he was suppose to watch as well. But ever since 'The Fall' he had assigned those to his other workers.

Mycroft watched the screen carefully as John Watson was talking with Greg Lestrade. It seems they have learned of Sebastian Moron's existence, but are not sure of his purpose, who he worked for, and what he is doing now.

**Do you remember a certain William Andrews I mentioned to you awhile back? -MH**

**Yes, my look-a-like. -SH**

**There's a very high chance he could be working with Moron. -MH**

**What!? How high of a chance? -SH**

**Oh, I'd say about, 95% I'll e-mail more of the details. -MH**

**Good. And keep a closer eye on him and John. -SH**

* * *

To: Simone Clarkson

From: Peterson Sweets

Files Attached: **William Andrews Darla Orstad **Moron

William Andrews leaves his flat every night around 11:13; he does not come back until 3:56. He goes past the bank, Tesco, the Library and then to what looks like a small pub. I have no cameras or bugs in that area so I have no information about if he might work a second job there, if he just goes to get drunk, or if he's meet anyone there. I sent one of my men there and from what he says he meets a woman there her name is Darla Orstad. She is 27 years old, single, lives in an apartment building 5 blocks away from the pub, which is known as 'The Queen's Chambers'. She come to Dr. John H. Watson at the clinic about 12 hours ago about a blood transplant, she has type O blood, very rare and she does not have the money to pay for a transplant, at least not on her own. Darla works as bartender/waitress at a club one the side of town; it is called "Starz Gazers," which William Andrews has been seen going into at least twice within this last week.

I am going to upgrade Andrews and John. I will also be sending some of my men undercover to the places I have seen William Andrews going into and get more information on Darla Orstad.

Attached are three files, William Andrews Files, what we know about Darla Orstad, and new information about Sebastian Moron. As usual, this e-mail in untraceable about so no need to delete this once you're done reading this. But because of security reasons (Which I'm sure you are aware of) I ask that you delete this once it is no more of a use to you.

You brother Peterson Sweets

* * *

Mycroft rolled his eyes once he sent the e-mail. Sherlock had picked out their new names and it was no mystery what Sherlock was implying when he gave Mycroft the last name of 'Sweets'. He swore he could almost hear his brother snickering all the way across London.

He really was a child.

Mycroft looked down at his desk, on it sat a piece of his Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake which he had ordered from Belgium. It really wasn't fair, was should his brother affect what he eats and how much of it? It was just a piece of cake! It wasn't like he was scoffing down the how entire cake all at once! (Like a certain brother of his did at his 8th Birthday Party in front of a visiting Chinese dignitary).

Mycroft frowned and scooped up a piece of cake on his fork. It didn't matter what his brother said about him! He was keeping an eye on his 'friends' fixing everything so Moron wouldn't find Sherlock, and having to deal with the rest of England's problems. He had the right to eat whatever the hell he wanted without having to worry about what his annoying younger brother was going to say!

**How's the cake brother? -SH**

* * *

**A/N**

**Hey everyone! Sorry about taking so long with this chapter! But my computer had apparently over like 60 virus, and has been down for awhile, plus I've been working on my story "A Trip to Manchester Manor" which I strongly suggest you read, but if you don't like anything dark than feel free to skip it (It's not really that dark, but there will be some stuff in later chapters.) Also, I've been busy reading other people's stories as well! What!? I want my own enjoyment as well!  
**

**Reviews are greatly loved as well as follows and favorites!**


	15. Taking Risks

To: Dr. John Watson

From: Greg Lestrade

Subject: Darla Orstad

Here is the information on Darla Orstad, just click the link and a file on her such come up. If it doesn't come up either e-mail me back or call and come down to the Yard and you can look at the file personally.

Did you get anywhere with William?

**File on Darla****Orstad**

* * *

John clicked on the link and a file was automatically saved into his computer.

_Darla Jennifer Orstad,_

_Is 27 years old, single and lives alone in an apartment building. She works as a bartender at a club called "Starz Gazers", she receives just enough payment to pay for rent, heating, food, ect. Her only living relative is a cousin who lives in America, she hasn't had contact with him for over 10 years. Has very few friends, _

_her female co-workers describe her as:"Annoy, a total prat, come in work late and usual lives early with a customer, different ones each time." _

_HerMale co-workers describe as: "Sure she can be a real bugger sometimes but hey, she hot, unattached, and if you pay her enough willing to do anything, even some bedside service, if you know what I mean" _

_Her boss's only complaints is that she comes to work late sometimes, when asked about how he felt about her leaving early he replied: "Each customer she leaves usual comes back, and with friends, as long as they keep buying I couldn't care less when she leaves."_

_The past few weeks she has been seen meeting up with the same customer repeatedly. The staff would not give the customer's name because of customer policy. We sent men over to the club and we have successfully identified the customer as William Carl Andrews._

* * *

John sighed, this was just what he'd feared. First the real Sherlock confessed to John that he had lied to him, (Not that John believed him one bit!) But know even the fake Sherlock look-a-like had lied to him. John took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves.

Both Moran and Flames seems to be quiet the past few days. No schemes, no bodies, nothing.

**Got a new lead. A club called 'Starz Gazers'. Meet me outside there at 7 p.m tonight. -JW**

**Sure thing. Is anyone from the Yard going to be there or is it just us? - WA  
**

**Just us. -JW  
**

* * *

"John you're mad! You could get yourself killed and ruin the entire operation!" An exhausted Greg Lestrade nearly yelled when John came by the Yard and told him his plan.

"Greg listen, Flames has been quiet, too quiet, and now this Moran has turned William against us. It's time we took risks before it's too late!"

"Well yeah, but if anything goes off plan by the slightest bit everything will be ruined!"

"Listen, I'll go with William down to the club where Darla works at and tell William that we have a lead that Darla's going to do something that will give her away tonight. Since William is new to their...gang...team...network..whatever they are, he'll be anxious to impress them. Once he thinks that we're onto them he'll mostly likely try and warm them, which in turn will give them away! If we don't action fast another dead body will show, as it is I'm surprised one hasn't showed up already!"

Lestrade let his head fall into his hands.

"You know you're going to get yourself killed right?"

"People are dying...people HAVE died because of this...this...whatever this is! This has to end!"

Lestrade let out a deep sigh, "I'll have some men by the club for back up. But once we can only do some much."

"Thank you Greg, you have no idea how much this means to me."

* * *

On a normal day John would take a cab back to Baker Street. But with the sun shining and a delightful refreshing breeze, a clam and peaceful walk home seemed to tempting to not give into.

John was only about halfway home when a all to familiar black unidentified car with tinted windows pulled up next to him.

'Athena', so he was told, opened the car door to let him in. John rolled his eyes and got in, "Alright, where am I meeting him this time?"

Athena gave a small smile from behind her phone, which she hadn't looked up from, "Surprise."

* * *

Since Sherlock's 'death' Mycroft Holmes hadn't said more than a few words to John Watson. Mycroft may hold a 'Minor position in the British government', but he'd have to be a fool not to think John would try something on him. The last time they saw each other was at the funeral and Mycroft could practically feel the hatred radiating off of John.

John Watson made his position quite clear, when time came for the rent to be paid Mycroft would always try and slip some money into John's account with him noticing. But the money was never touched, it was quiet clear that John wanted no help from him. None the less Mycroft would pay Mrs. Hudson for Sherlock's half of the rent and a little extra for not telling John anything.

At a cafe in an exclusive hotel somewhere near the out skirts of London, Mycroft Holmes sat sipping his afternoon tea.

As he looked over he saw a annoyed John Watson walking in, _'At least it's not a furious John Watson, those are always the hardest to deal with'_ he thought putting his cup down and gesturing for John to have a seat.

"Evening Mycroft, haven't heard much from in a while." John said taking the seat.

"I assume you want me to skip the small talk and get straight to business?"

"That would helpful yes, got plans for tonight-"

"Yes, that's what I want to speak to you about. It seems your investigate down at the Yard is afflicting some of my own."

"How so?" John said as he poured himself some tea.

"Sebastien Moran, are you familiar with the name?" Mycroft said taking a sip of his own cup.

"Moran? Um yeah, he is in league with flames, or as we believe him to be '_The While Flame'_."

Mycroft gave a small chuckle as he put his cup down, "Quiet obvious don't you think? Much like Moriarty."

In confusion John put his cup down and sat forwards.

" Flames, _'The White Flames'_, he put his own name down to try and brag, 'rub it in your faces' so to speak. Moriarty did something like when he used the name Richard Brook or Rich Brook is 'Reichen Bach' in German. As I recall the recovery of the Reichenbach Falls painting was the case that brought Sherlock his fame."

"And you think Flames is somehow related with Moriarty?"

"No, but Moran is, Sebastian Moran once worked for Moriarty. I should probably warn you Dr. Watson, I would not share this information with those down at the Scotland Yard for reasons that, I'm sure, you are aware of?"

"You mean that no one would believe me because they think Sherlock was a Freud, because of you, and it would to harm for our investigation, which I'm really hoping has nothing to do with you."

"Flames? No, he is just another Moron who can't stand not being in the lime-light."

"Right, so, what's with Flames obsession with Sherlock?"

"Like I said, Flames can't stand not being in the lime-light. A few months back all the papers seemed to be filled with stories, rumors, conspiracies, ect all concerning Sherlock. I suppose in Flames's mind this was all a way to challenge him. Now, why he believes Sherlock death was a fake, well, my only guess is that he didn't want to believe he had lost a battle he hadn't even begun."

John gave a nod showing he understood. That fit the profile of Flames, but if that were so, why had he been quiet ever since the night of the Fight? I didn't make sense, Flames now knew the Yard was onto him, shouldn't he be trying his hardest to 'rub it in their faces'? Something was off, and John guessed that something was why Mycroft has brought him here in the first place.

"Why am I here?"

"Because John, like I said earlier, your investigate down at the Yard is afflicting some of my own."

"So what, you're telling me to back off!?"

"You may continue on with your investigation on Flames, But you are to keep away from Moran."

"And why is that?"

"Classified I'm afraid."

John groaned in frustration, they were just starting to get somewhere in the investigation! No, there was no way he was letting Mycroft Holmes get in his way now! If he wanted John too back off than he should have said something days, weeks ago. Not now when they were inches away from possibly a huge break through!

"Well, I suppose since we both have nothing else to say about-"

"Tell me about William Andrew."

Mycroft stopped John mid-sentence as he got up to leave. This frustrated John all the more, all he wanted was a nice cuppa with some peace and quiet before he had to go out tonight. That seem to be the one thing John wanted most but never got, peace, quiet, and a cuppa.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything in general, once he moved in to 221C I looked over his files, which you've probably already guessed. But I want to know what he's like from a personal perspective."

"Nice, quiet, stays to himself, bit shy. Besides the investigation I haven't spoke with him much. I tried to invite him out to a pub with me and Greg once, but he seemed reluctant."

"Invite him out again John, that is, if you get the chance. I am well aware of your suspicious about him betraying you, and I believe them to be well founded."

"That's it?"

"I should think so, oh and do give my regards to Greg Lestrade, I should probably look into get him paid extra for having to deal with you and this...Flames."

* * *

On the car ride home John had a so much on his mind that he could already feel the headache he was going to have that night.

And when he got home John decided there was only one thing left to do before he left that night.

He made a cuppa, turned down his phone, and seat in his chair and sipped his tea in some well earned peace and quiet.

* * *

**Just got out from a meeting with John. It would seem the Yard is finally have it's suspicions about Moran. -MH**

**About time, and I am sure you are keeping them away from him? -SC**

**Yes, but I have a feeling that our dear John is going to disregard everything I said and carry on with his plan. -MH**

**Make sure he doesn't. I don't want to have to remind you that dangers of Moran becoming suspicious thinking I might still be alive. It could be, consequential. -SC **

**Of course, oh and do get some sleep tonight, I don't need you fainting causing a scene. -MH**

_**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry for not updating in like...forever! Over the past few months things have been hectic over! But not to worry! I PROMISE, I will be updating more often!**_

_**Also, I need your opinion on something...I was thinking about have Mary Morstan coming in to play. But be warned! If I do add her there will be angst! Like, Angst like Whoa! please review and let me know what you think!  
**_


	16. Risking it All

That night John and William walked into the 'Starz Gazers' side-by-side. Little did John know that they were being watched, not only by Mycroft's men, but by a few men Moran had convinced to work for him. They seated themselves at an empty booth and began scanning the room; John looking for Darla, William making sure Moran's men was in place.

Moran had three men watching them that night. One was a homeless man named Nathan, his wife had left him and took the kids, and less than a week later he lost his job. He was lucky enough to have a friend to let him crash on their couch, but that was over 2 months ago, his friend, feeling like they had been taken advantage of, informed him that he had to get a job within 2 weeks or he was kicking him out. Moran found him in his desperate and paid him to do his dirty work. Nathan didn't mind, as long as he got him money, he would be willing to do anything.

The second man was named Gordon; he was a drug addict who ran out of money. Gordon was a University student who dropped out because he needed the money to buy drugs. Once his mother found out she kicked him out, Gordon bought a run-down apartment about a block from the 'Starz Gazers', his plan was to have one last night out, spend all his money, then commit suicide. That just happened to be the Moran found him and gave him a job.

The last man wasn't a man, her name was Lucy, she was in her mid-thirties and living with her boyfriend. About three weeks ago her boyfriend left her when she told him she was pregnant. Two weeks ago she got an abortion to try and get him back. And one week ago he turned her down and that's when she found Moran. Lucy had wanted to keep the baby, but with a low paying job she was unable to pay the rent for the apartment they were living in, she decide that giving up her baby was the only way. Filled with hate for herself and her boyfriend was how Moran found her, drunk and with no other opinions in life she went with Moran who made her an offer she couldn't refuse. Moran agreed to help pay for her apartment, pay her directly and get revenge on her ex-boyfriend, and all she had to do was spy on and a few people and get rid of few now and then.

* * *

John took a sip of his beer and looked around for William, who said he was going to get a refill. John looked over and saw William flirting with a brunette, _Gotcha!_ John thought. Even if that was Darla he could still ask William about her by bringing up the fact that William said he already had a girlfriend.

When William came back he was drinking some fruity looking drink, and it was quite obvious this wasn't his first one. John closed his eyes for a seconded and sighed, this was going to be a long night.

John and William talked for a while to make it at least seem like they were two normally mates just going out. "So who was that girl you were talking to earlier? Anyone you know?"

"Who? Oh Tanya, no, just met her when I went for a refill. Nice girl, single, she said she came here with her friends...Who just happened to leave her here on 'accident'-"

"But I thought you already had a girlfriend?"

William looked panicked for second, and then seemed to recompose himself. "Don't about it mate, besides, we weren't really serious about it. I pretty sure she's going to dump me soon anyways. Hell I bet she's been cheating on me this whole time! Always late from work, going out to meet some 'friends' of hers for lunch dates, and this whole 'new schedule' thing. I bet it's just her way of trying to let me down nicely-"

John didn't catch the rest; he was too busy watching the girl who William identified as 'Tanya'. From the time William had talked with her till now all she had done was get a few drinks and head back to a table where some guy was waiting for her. He was too old to be her boyfriend, but none the less, he kept putting his arm around her and whispering in her ear.

"Isn't that the girl you were chatting to at the bar?" Jon said as he pointed to 'Tanya' and the man sitting next to her.

"Who? Oh yeah, that's her, why?"

"Oh, well than sorry mate, looks likes she's already taken!"

"Oh, that's alright I suppose, can't win them all right?"

"Yeah, bit weird though, don't you think? He looks a bit old for her..."

"Maybe she's just into older men."

"Yeah, do ya think-"

"Listen John, it's late, this lead of yours doesn't look like it's going to show up, and besides that I'm not feeling so well, can we go home now?"

John gave a kind, but fake none the less, smile. This was it, if 'Tanya', who John, although it was painfully hard to see past all the people, could make out as Darla, recognized him everything would fail. It was now or never, fight or flight.

"Yeah sure, hey why don't you go outside and call us a cab. I'll be right out, gotta go use the loo!"

William nodded and went outside. Once he was gone John quickly pulled out his notebook he carried with him (a habit Sherlock go him into which he could never break) and scribbled down his cell phone number.

As he stood he looked around one more time to make sure William was outside.

John splashed his face a bit to make him look a bit drunk and walked over to the table where 'Tanya' was with a slight sway.

* * *

"Ummmm, excuse me, you Tanya?" John with puzzled expression.

"Huh, uh, yeah I'm Tanya, who are you and what you want?"

"Ummm...My mate...Willy, he told- tol- said he spoke with you? By the b- ba- drinks?"

John had remembered that once when he went out with Greg and the some of the Yard that he was a confused drunk, he couldn't remembered much of that night, tried to reenact what he could remembered.

"Willy? Oh! Yes, William, yeah we spoke, why?"

"Ya see, Willy's not so good with women and well...he told me he gave you his number...but it was his old one, he asked if I could give you this." He said as he handed 'Tanya', although now that John got a closer look it was most definitely Darla, the piece of paper with his number scribbled on it.

"Oh thanks hon, tell Will I'll call him later K?"

"K...Bye." John said as he turned and walked away still swaying.

* * *

"Hey John! Where you been! I've been holding this cab for ages trying to tell him it wasn't for a drunk friend!" William said as John came out of the building and spotted him next to the cab. "Sorry William, there was a line."

"Ha! I hear ya! Yick! I can smell the alcohol on you!"

John had to hold back his snicker as he climbed into the cab. "Yeah, there was a bunch of drunks in there doing who-knows-what!"

"Listen, sorry about your lead turning out to be a no-show. What was it again, some girl who worked there?"

"He name was Alice Page, it was a long shoot in the first place, I guess she found out we had our suspensions and 'head for the hills' so to say. Shame really, we were hoping she was in league with Moran and would be willing to give up some information about him...Oh well, I guess I'll just have to wait for Lestrade to get back to me about our other guy."

"Other guy?"

"Oh yeah! I forgot! You weren't home when I got the call. I went down to the Yard the other day and Greg Lestrade told me they found one of Moran's men. He's agreed to get some information about Moran and his gang or network. He goes in, gets the info, gives it to us, Moran won't even see it coming!"

* * *

"What to do you mean a traitor!?" Moran yelled at a less than pleased William who had snuck out of Baker Street once he thought that everyone was asleep. "I talked with Watson; apparently they got a false lead which led them very closely to a real lead. Some worker at the club called 'Alice Page' I guessing that's a fake name someone was using so maybe they could give the Yard some info about Darla."

"Speaking of which..."

"Yes, I was able to get here the information with Watson getting suspicious. Darla was there with Steve, so he'll be able to rely the information to Marg at America. But later on, on the cab ride home, Watson told me about some progress the DI made in the case. Apparently they got one of our own to double cross us, he said he's gonna give them some info bout us."

Moran was silent and pondered for a moment. Ever since his boss died it seemed like everything was slowly falling out of place. All of his allies in China have stopped contacting him, in fact, all his clients from Asia have stopped coming to him all together.

He had just gotten contact with one of his top smuggler from Africa only to find out all his men from there are either killed or in prison. The smuggler, Ame, had told him their leader was murdered then it seemed a small war had broken out between his African team and all English/American traders.

And Moran didn't even want to think about Germany! He was lucky he still had his Allies from America and two companies from the Mideast.

"William, has Watson given any, and when I say any I mean any, indications that Sherlock Holmes COULD still be alive?"

"Ha! No! If anything he's still depressed about it! This whole 'Flames' business has really taken a toll on him!"

Moran gave a small laugh, "There still going on about that?"

"Yeah, but they're starting to move on, I think their starting to realize that there might be a bigger threat than Flames."

Moran laughed, Flames was nothing more than a pathetic spoiled brat who for once in his life heard the word no. Moran didn't understand how such an idiot couldn't get it through his head that Holmes was dead. What Flames wanted was to do chased down by the best of the best, and he simply couldn't get it through his head that he was gone! No, Flames was done, finished, without Moran's help his business would die.

And that gave Moran an Idea.

"Sophia!"

A young girl somewhere in her mid-twenties came rushing to Moran's side. She was your everyday perfect blonde haired-Blue-eyed-perfect-tan-perfect-body girl. To an ordinary person she looked like someone who slept their way through high school and was going the same at Uni and was doing a good job at it.

But Moran was not ordinary, and what he found was a girl who knew how to manipulate anyone. She was a genius in the making, that is if she could keep her hands to herself long enough.

"Yes sir!"

"Who is the rival company for Flames?"

"That would Mr. Daniels Company, he owns a large string of hotels, 5 which are more famous for their casinos, 4 for their ballrooms, and 10 for their locations."

"Which Hotel franchise is that?"

"Their company is called "T_he Oasis"."_

"Get Mr. Daniels on line 3 tomorrow morning. I have business to discuss with him."

"Yes Sir!" And with the girl left.

"Now you William, do you have any idea who this traitor might be?"

"I'll get Watson to tell me, but I think it might be Gordon. That dirt bag would do anything for money, I would say Bethy, considering the only reason she's here is to get money for her kids. But Watson specially said a guy, so I'd put my money on Gordon."

* * *

In a cheap apartment in the most run-down part of London, Gordon lay on his bed in bliss from the cocaine that was just given to him as a 'gift' from his boss. Gordon had already had two run-ins when he was high and was luck he got out. He couldn't risk a three time or he was sure Moran would stop supplying him. No. that couldn't happen. Not again.

Gordon missed his mother. Missed her laugh, her soup, her house. And when it was he hit those thoughts that he knew he was coming down from his high. Gordon sighed and got up; he would wait a little while longer this time before he shot up again. Moran gave him enough to last the month, he would make sure this one lasted and not waste it all like last time; he made a stupid mistake and nearly overdosed.

The one thing Gordon did like about his crappy, little apartment was that it came with a small balcony which at night received a small breeze which was quite refreshing.

As Gordon walked out onto the balcony he took a deep breath of the night air. He looked up and saw the stars twinkling in the sky; it made his think of the songs his mother use to sing to him when he was a child.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Maybe he should get clean.

Maybe he should go home.

But was too late for maybe, because little did Gordon know that upon his chest a red dot dance across is heart.

Blackness soon overcame him.


	17. Every move you make, I'll be watching

"Gorden Shumway, 23 years old, currently unemployed, his neighbors said they heard a shot and looked out to see his body hanging over the railing of his balcony." Lestrade said as he and John looked over the body.

John still hadn't heard anything from 'Tanya' was beginning to worry that he had made a mistake. John looked closer at the body, he looked familiar, but he couldn't be sure. The body had one hole on it going right through the heart. Whoever it was that killed him had wanted to kill him was expecting to do it fast and without any problems.

"How long as he been unemployed?"

"For about 3 months."

The only response John gave was a quite hum is acknowledgment. No prints, no signs of forced entry, in fact, John doubted the person who killed him entered the building at all. "I'd put my money on sniper, there's no prints anywhere else in the house so he came with one purpose. There are also no footprints, so whoever killed him didn't even enter the house. All the residents in the surrounding apartments have been living here from a year to six months ago, so I don't think any of them have been secretly stalking Gorden. And any others who have moved in between the time Gorden moved in till now don't live within shooting range. So most likely the shooter used someone's apartment. I'd say are best bet are the ones on the building directly across on the 4th floor."

Lestrade just nodded as he looked up and scanned the nearby apartments. He supposed he should be used to it by now, seeing children peering through curtains trying to get a small peek, people stopping in the middle of the street to watch his men as they take notice and look for evidence. But the worst and one that Lestrade hated the most was probably when people slowed down in their cars to watch. Not only were they just simply being annoying, but they were also forcing other people to slow down which in turned would cause a traffic jam and that would cause people to get angry, which would make it even harder for his men when they tried to leave. Honestly, people were really annoying.

But as he looked up he saw people out on their balconies staring down at him. He was suddenly reminded that there were two sides to London, as there were for most cities. One side was lights, the noise, and stores, building, and the busy people who didn't seem to have a second to admire the beautiful city. The other side was much dark, this was side that Lestrade fought against so that those living on the light side wouldn't have to.

"Lestrade! I think you'll wanna see this!" Lestrade turned around and went back inside the apartment to find Sergeant Donavon in Gorden's room looking into with looked like a Tackle Box. "I don't think Mr. Shumway was into too much fishing." Donavon said as she moved back to show the box was filled with cocaine.

"Blimy! There's enough in here to last him months!" Donavon said in as he began to put the cocaine and everything else in the tackle box in evidence bags.

"More like a month." John said as he inspected the cocaine. "What you mean?"

"As I inspected the body I saw the spots on his arm where he injected. There were at least three newer spots from before the time of death. With that amount, and the spots, that would probably last him a month. I'm not sure much he took each time and how much time was between. But I'm guessing on the days he did inject he inject three times that day and only inject small amounts. He probably was trying to make it last."

"So, what, you think he was working for someone, and they were paying him with cocaine?" Lestrade said looking over the rest of the room.

"Well, like you said Lestrade, he hasn't been employed for months. So, the cocaine and a apartment?"

Lestrade just nodded as he went back to searching the room.

Donavon walked out of the room to gather all the evidence together. One her way out she looked back at Gorden's body. "You know, he looks familiar, I think I've seen him somewhere before..."

"Yeah, same here, but I just can't figure out where-"

"The Queen Chambers!"

Both John and Lestrade snapped their heads towards Donavon's direction, but both for different reasons. John, because he recognized the name from the pub Rogers told him, Lestrade cause that was probably one of the last things he thought he hear Donavon ever say.

Realizing they were staring at her, Donavon began to explain. "About a few weeks back I was checking out a lead when I saw some guy drop to the ground by some alley by a pub called 'The Queen's Chamber's'. At first I thought he might have mugged, so I pulled over to check it out. When I got over there I found it was just some guy you had almost OD'd. I brought him to a hospital, when I checked over his belongings I didn't find any more drugs on him, so I left and was planning on returning in the morning when he was awake. When I got there the next morning he was gone. We searched for him for awhile, but he seemed to just disappear."

"Well," John said as he looked over the body as it was being rolled away. "Looks like you finally found him."

* * *

"Welcome to _The Nile_ Mr. Walter, your room is room 324 on the 3'd floor. The room has been cleaned and ready for check in!"

_Recently employed, single mother has two children, one a teenager and one a toddler. Just broke-up with boyfriend, caught him cheating on her. Doesn't plan on working here long, just long enough to pay off the down payment she put on a new flat. Works two other jobs, one is a substitute teacher, the other is as a small vet-_

"Yes, thank you" Mr. Walter grabbed his duffle bag off the floor, grabbed the card key and headed to his room. Mr. Walter had short, curly, ginger hair that was just beginning to grow back, and he was more than thrilled. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. He wore thick glasses that he kept readjusting.

As he entered is room he flung his bag and himself onto the bed and took a few moments to let his body catch up with himself. He knew he was cutting it close, but there was too much work to be done. He sat up and crossed his legs Indian style as he opened his bag and took out a laptop. as he turned the laptop on it chimed to let him know his e-mail had finally come.

* * *

**1 New Message**

From: Peterson Sweets

To: Fern Walter

Message received April 15, 2012.

The Scotland Yard has just found the body of Gorden Shumway. He is one of the men we believe Moran has working for him. Darla Orstad and Steve Walker were seen at the club called 'Starz Gazers' on April 14th (More information about Steve Walker will come soon). Shumway's body was found by one of his neighbors hanging off his balcony outside of his apartment. There was a single round that had gone straight through his body. One the night of April 14th he was seen taking with a Nathan Simmons. Both men are between ages 22-28, Nathan was a homeless man who was often seen on the move going from town-to-town. He stopped in London about 2 weeks back and hasn't left yet, which according to the small few who were closet with him, was rather odd. Shumway was a drug addict on the run from a Sergent Sally Donavon. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade was in charge of the crime scene, and Dr. John Watson was consulted. Alone. No more new on William Andrews, but my men did see Darla at the club on the night of April 14th.

Darla Orstad was seen at the club 'Starz Gazers' along with a man named Steve Walker on the night of April 14th at 21:34. On the same night Dr. John Watson and William Andrew were also seen at the club at 22:22. William Andrews was seen meeting up with Darla at the bar when he got a drink and appeared to be giving her a piece of paper. Later that around 01:07 John Watson was seen writing his number down and then gave the paper with his number on it to Darla Orstad. William Andrew and John Watson were seen leaving the club at 01:13 and Darla Orstad and Steve Walker were seen leaving at 01:15.

If requested, orders will given to take DI Leatrade, Sergent Donavon, and Dr. Watson off the case.

~Sweets


	18. Panicking into Error

"You- You can't be serious!?"

"I believe you'll find I am. I have no further use of him, he and the Scotland Yard are getting close, to close. With Mr. Daniels sponsoring us we no longer need Mr. Flames, I've already sent someone out to take care of him. Once he's gone hopefully the Scotland Yard will back off. But knowing that Dr. Watson he'll probably get suspicious. If he does, get rid of him! I don't care how just do it! We can't take anymore risks."

Sebastien Moran said over the phone. He was finally able to convince Mr. Roddie Daniels owner of the 'Oasis' hotels to partner with them. When Moran said we would be willing to get rid of Flames, the #1 rival of the Oasis, it was an offer Daniels couldn't refuse. Now all that was felt was to get rid of the loose ends.

And those loose ends happened to be Andrew Williams, Dr. John Watson and DI Greg Lestrade.

It was all too simple, have Williams kill Watson, then send someone to kill Williams and make it look like he was over ridden with guilt and committed suicide. DI would have to leave the case alone, if not, then he'd get rid of him. Everything was coming together, Moran could do this! He had to! Moriarty had doubted him at first, he had to work his way up to become Moriarty's top hit-man.

Moriarty had left him certain instructions for what he was suppose to do if anything was to happen to him. Unfortunately, the plan wasn't able to proceed until quite recently. Flames was huge set back. Moriarty had made an agreement with Flames that as long as he sponsored them, then Moriarty would protect him from the law. But he let his pride get in the way, that was the first thing Moriarty taught him. Moran still remembers the day perfectly.

It was his first kill for Moriarty, he had been working for one of Moriarty's clients for a while now, but it appeared Moriarty grew bored of him and had Moran kill him. Moran had been at a bar in America having a drink with a few guys. He didn't, wouldn't get drunk, his job was too risky to do that. But none the less, there he was, bragging to some of the guys about how the new 'job' he had landed and how in turn he got to 'get back' at his old boss. Later that evening, on his way home, there was someone waiting for Moran inside his house.

"It's rather rude to keep people waiting, especially when that person is your boss."

Moran turned on the living room light to see Moriarty sitting in an armchair by his fireplace drinking red wine (Which was odd, cause he didn't own any wine).

Moran had talked with Moriarty over the internet, texts messages, but never in person. Moran wasn't some petty thief who just stole his first CD or laptop. No, he had been in the criminal world since he was a boy. So he knew that meeting Moriarty was like meeting the Queen of England.

"Oh c'mon now, don't give me that look, I like to meet the people who's going to be working for me for the rest of either of our lives."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Moran asked putting his hands on his hips, keeping his gun at reach.

"It's no use." As Moriarty said these words a red dot danced over Moran's heart. "See that?" Moriarty nodded towards the dot. "That's the guy you're going to replace. And trust me, he knows aaaaaaalllll about you. If it weren't for the fact that I'd boil him alive, he'd shot you right on spot."

"I believe you."

"Goooooood" Moriarty said in a sing-song like voice. "I was worried that I'd invest in the wrong product."

Moran clenched down his teeth. Product? That was a new one, and not one that he would like to get used to. "Just a piece of advice, don't let your pride get in the way. 'Cause trust me, it's awfully annoying to others, meaning me, and its a pain in the arse to try an get rid of later."

* * *

"Hey John!"

John Watson was on the 17 steps up to 221B when he heard Andrew Williams calling him. "Hey, need something?"

"Did you hear? Lestrade just called me and told me Flames was was dead!"

* * *

"Ironically enough, he burned to death, his penthouse apartment caught on fire. The fire department was able to control it so none of the other apartments caught on fire. All his fortunes are going to a Steve Carlsberg, his successor. The fire started by a bad electrical plug in the living room. We found his remains on his bed, we think, hope, he was asleep when he was killed. The fire went from the living room, to the kitchen and to the bedroom. The fire department was able to stop t before it went any further." Lestrade read off from the report file.

"So, it was just some kind of freak accident?" Andrew said when Lestrade was finished.

"Yeah-" Lestrade started but was cut off by John.

"No."

"No?" Andrew questioned. "No, someone knew we were getting close, I think this has to do with Moran."

"Moran? John-" Andrew began with a groan.

"No! Look! Every time we get close it seems this Moran is always there and one step ahead!"

"John...Maybe...Did you ever think that maybe you're just doing this to get some form of closure?"

"Closure!?"

"Yeah, I mean, ever since we've began it seems like everything has to do with this 'Sherlock'. I mean, this 'Moran' could just be one of Flames employees! Flames was a business man, and we heard him ourselves John! During his talk with Moran, he said they were going world wide! He's probably just a business partner!"

"A business partner who helps you kill people?"

"John, It's like you said! He's always seems to be one step ahead of you! It's probably just part of some business plan! we have no proof for any of this! I mean seriously! How do you explain it!"

"A mole!"

Andrew just shook his head, but mentally he was panicking. "Now you're just being ridiculous! Greg, are you seriously believing this!?"

Lestrade looked between the two men, it wasn't hard to figure out what was going on. John needs Andrew panicking into error. If Andrew panics, he'll do something dramatic, which could end up killing one of them, but Lestrade understood what it meant to serve under the law.

For Queen and Country.

"It does seem to be the only way it's possible. Listen, some of my men are still over there checking it out. Way doesn't you two go home and take a break for a few days. I'll call if we find anything."

* * *

Andrew was sitting on his couch in 221C, he had finished fixing up the place and was now simply resting. He knew he had to do it soon, they were getting too close. He, Andrew Jacob Williams, would have to kill one Dr. John Watson. But could he? Moran said that once he did, all he had to was contact him and they would protect him, lose the evidence and set him up someplace else.

This was it, he had to do it. He needed the money, his sister didn't tell him yet, but when he was staying there he saw the letter from her doctor explaining her medications, she had cancer. It could be treated, but it would be expensive.

It was his sisters life or his. If he didn't kill John he knew Moran would himself and kill Andrew as well.

He knew what he had to do.

* * *

John was sitting in 221B on his armchair reading his paper.

*Sigh*

John looked over at the armchair across from his. empty.

_"Honestly John! Still haven't moved on yet? How pathetic, morning over me won't bring me back. By now you should know, you can't want something enough to get. Wanting will do nothing. Waiting will do nothing. Grieving will do nothing. Idiot." _

"Yeah well, you're not doing much are you?" John cringed as soon as those words left his mouth. Talking to himself? Honestly, he was seriously loosing it.

*Creak*

John folded his paper and placed it next to him. He reached over and grabbed his gun. So now was the time, Andrew was finally showing his true colors. He should have expected it really, it was to good to be true. I mean, someone who looks almost EXACTLY like Sherlock and be willing to help them out on a case? He should have seen it coming sooner.

Still ever the idiot.

*Knock Knock Knock*

"Coming."

John arose and walked over to the door. Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

He could see it now, Andrew waiting behind the door with a gun. As soon as John opens the door Andrew points the gun straight in between his eyes. As John takes a step back, Andrew takes a step forward. Once their in the flat Andrew quietly shuts the door and says something about making it quick. Then Andrew will go on to say why he's going this, what story he has to 'justify' his actions, why John has to die. After that he might even go on to say what he'll do after he's killed John. Then finally he'll click the gun, and not being able to watch John as he's killing him, he'll ask him to close he's eyes. Then...BAM!

Maybe Mrs. Hudson will find his body, maybe the police will come after the neighbors call the police. Or perhaps after not going to work for a few more the clinic will call, then after a few more days someone will stop by and find his rotting corpse. Who knows? Maybe Lestrade will find him, then he'll hunt down Andrew, kill him, then continue hunting down Moran 'till the ends of the earth'.

John laughs at this, he can almost hear Sherlock saying _'How cliche!'_

_Well...Here goes..._

John thought as he opened the door.


End file.
